THE  RIGHT 

OF  THE 

STRONGEST 


FRANCES 
NIMMO 
GREENE 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE  RIGHT 
OF  THE  STRONGEST 


THE   RIGHT 
OF  THE   STRONGEST 


BY 

FRANCES   NIMMO  GREENE 


"Daily  injustice  is  done,  and  might 
is  the  right  of  the  strongest." 

— Longfellow. 


NEW    YORK 

CHARLES   SCRIBNER'S   SONS 
1913 


COPVWGHT,  1913,  BY 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  April,  1913 


3513 


THE   RIGHT 
OF  THE   STRONGEST 


1523814 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

CHAPTER  I 

WHETHER  to  take  the  big  road  that  wound  round 
the  knob  or  the  much  shorter  footpath  across  the 
hill  was  the  question.  Mary  Elizabeth  stood  at  the 
parting  of  the  ways  and  pondered.  Each  route  had 
its  drawbacks.  The  longer  and  more  frequented 
way  had  late  arrival  and  a  sharp  scolding  at  the  end, 
while  the  path  that  would  take  her  home  in  time 
for  supper  led  up  the  steep  hill  by  the  "ha'nted 
house"  and  down  again  through  the  dark-green  twi 
light  of  the  pine  forest  beyond. 

The  girl  stopped  in  her  tracks  and  demanded  an 
explanation  from^  herself.  Was  she,  too,  supersti 
tious?  Was  she  reverting  to  type? 

With  a  quick,  determined  setting  of  the  mouth, 
she  turned  sharply  to  the  left  and  took  the  way  of 
the  haunted  house  and  the  dark  forest.  The  steep 
hill  at  the  beginning  of  her  elected  route  gave  her 
something  on  which  to  exercise  her  determination, 
and  in  a  short  while  she  had  won  the  sharp  acclivity 
and  stood  panting  at  the  top. 

The  height  gained,  however,  Mary  Elizabeth 
found  herself  in  less  haste  to  accomplish  the  rest  of 
the  journey.  She  was  all  out  of  breath,  she  ex 
plained  to  herself  by  way  of  apology,  so  she  scared 


4  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

the  brown  lizards  off  the  nearest  log  and  sat  down 
a  moment  to  rest. 

It  was  the  month  and  the  hour  in  which  the  earth- 
tints,  from  the  dust  of  the  wayside  to  the  tops  of 
the  tallest  trees,  blend  in  a  yellow  monochrome,  and 
the  all-pervading  sunlight  turns  to  gold.  It  was  the 
season  when,  her  year's  tasks  at  an  end,  Nature 
sinks  back  into  a  dreamy  repose — to  peace  and  con 
tentment  and  stillness — in  the  arms  of  the  living 
God. 

He  was  here,  His  feet  were  upon  the  mountains, 
the  very  solitude  and  silence  were  eloquent  of  Him. 
Here  could  linger  no  unsightly  thing.  The  oak  that 
spread  its  branches  over  her,  with  its  huge  trunk 
gnarled  and  twisted  and  misshapen,  had  taken  on 
an  added  dignity  through  its  very  deformity,  the 
tangle  of  muscadine  vines  beyond  had  caught  a 
wilder  grace  from  the  rending  hand  of  a  long-spent 
storm,  and  all  around,  death  and  decay  were  trans 
formed  into  things  of  beauty. 

The  girl  sat  for  some  minutes  unwilling  to  stir, 
and  so  quiet  was  the  scene  that  the  sudden  barking 
of  a  squirrel  startled  her  like  an  irreverence,  and  she 
unconsciously  laid  her  finger  on  her  lips  as  a  few 
half-dead  leaves  relinquished  their  precarious  hold 
on  the  bough  above  her,  and  dropped  about  her 
with  a  sigh. 

The  spell  was  broken.  Already  the  radiance  was 
fading  out  of  the  atmosphere,  the  golden  hour  had 
turned  to  gray,  and  the  shadows  of  night  were  lurk 
ing  in  the  deep  wood  places. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  $ 

The  girl  started  to  her  feet  and  with  a  quick  step 
resumed  her  way  along  the  brown  footpath.  The 
"ha'nted  house"  was  still  to  be  passed,  and  this 
was  the  very  hour  in  which  "White-face  Silas"  was 
wont  to  walk.  The  place  lay  but  a  short  distance 
ahead  of  her  now,  and  already  its  ghost-trees  showed 
white  through  the  brown  of  the  nearer  woods — here 
a  glint,  and  there  a  glint;  and,  after  a  few  paces 
more,  spread  out  in  full  view  the  blasted  grove 
whose  spectral  tree-trunks  sentinelled  a  scene  of 
desolation.  Mary  Elizabeth  stopped  short  at  the 
verge  of  the  haunted  ground.  The  lines  of  deter 
mination  about  her  mouth  had  melted  away.  Mary 
Elizabeth  had  reverted  to  type. 

The  forlorn  yard-space  stretched  out  in  front  of 
her,  but  no  soft  pine-needles  or  drift  of  tinted  leaves 
drew  a  mantle  of  charity  over  it;  only  the  weed- 
stubble  and  fallen  limbs  of  dead  trees  spread  out 
before  her.  Gone  was  the  breathing  beauty  of  the 
living  forest,  the  promise  of  peace  in  the  silentness, 
the  spirit  of  God  in  the  pulsing  solitude.  The  place 
was  dead.  The  whole  scene  was  dead,  blasted,  for 
saken;  for  man  and  sin  had  desolated  it,  and  neither 
man  nor  God  would  tarry  there. 

A  hundred  yards  in  front  of  her,  a  little  back 
among  the  blasted  trees,  stood  a  crumbling  log 
cabin,  dark,  secretive,  suggestive.  The  one  window, 
with  its  every  tiny  pane  of  glass  battered  out,  gave 
the  house  the  look  of  a  blinded  thing.  The  front 
steps  were  rotting  where  they  stood,  and  the  front 
door,  swinging  precariously  on  one  rusted  hinge, 


6  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

might  conceal — any  horrid  thing.  To  the  left  was 
the  well-house,  an  added  abhorrence,  a  place  for 
crawling,  slimy  things.  One  end  of  the  rotting 
rope  still  hung  from  the  windlass  over  the  rusty 
wheel,  but  the  bucket  had  long  since  broken  away 
and  fallen,  down,  down,  down — Mary  Elizabeth 
started  with  a  shudder  as  she  fancied  she  heard  it 
still,  bumping  against  the  caving  sides.  Just  be 
yond  the  well-house,  in  plain  view,  was  the  covered 
log  pen  in  which  Silas  had  kept  his  crazy  father 
until  an  ice  storm  on  the  mountain  had  set  the  old 
man  free  forever. 

For  more  years  than  anybody  had  thought  to 
compute,  White-faced  Silas  had  cursed  this  spot 
with  his  living  presence.  He  had  "entered"  the 
land,  it  was  said.  Certainly  he  had  built  the  log 
house  on  it.  If  he  had  ever  boasted  a  second  name, 
it  had  long  since  been  buried  beneath  the  contempt 
of  his  familiar  sobriquet.  Where  he  came  from,  no 
one  knew.  What  his  sins  were,  no  one  had  been 
able  to  reduce  to  a  definite  statement.  As  far  as 
Mary  Elizabeth  knew,  he  had  lived  alone  except 
for  the  questionable  company  of  the  maniac,  and 
had  died  by  his  own  hand  in  the  end,  taking  his 
secrets  with  him.  And  they  had  found  him  a  good 
three  days  after  the  horrid  deed,  and  had  forthwith 
cut  him  down  from  the  rafter  and  carried  him  off  to 
the  grave;  but  the  nights  were  not  many,  so  the  story 
went,  before  Silas  was  back  again  in  his  old  haunts, 
whiter  than  before. 

Mary  Elizabeth  went  over  every  detail  of  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  7 

gruesome  story  in  her  own  mind  while  she  hesitated 
to  pursue  a  course  that  would,  in  its  windings,  bring 
her  much  nearer  to  the  half-open,  secretive  door. 
And  as  she  wavered  and  looked  and  listened,  all  at 
once,  a  white  hand  grasped  the  sagging  door  from 
the  inside.  The  one  rusty  hinge  uttered  a  harsh 
protest.  Something  was  dragging  it  open!  He  was 
coming — White-faced  Silas  was  opening  the  door! 

The  girl  staggered  where  she  stood  and  laid  frantic 
hold  of  a  dead  tree  for  support,  but  she  uttered  never 
a  sound.  The  next  instant,  however,  her  vision 
cleared,  and  she  beheld  on  the  threshold  of  the 
haunted  house  a  sunburned  young  man  who  was 
very  apparently  alive  throughout  the  whole  six  feet 
of  him. 

Obviously  he  had  not  caught  sight  of  her,  for  he 
now  stood  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  whistling 
with  all  his  might;  but  his  tune  had  lasted  for  only 
a  few  sprightly  strains,  when  he  suddenly  left  the 
rotting  doorstep  and  strode  across  the  yard-space 
till  he  was  within  a  few  rods  of  where  the  astonished 
girl  stood.  When  about  twenty  paces  from  the 
house,  however,  he  paused  and  whirled  in  his  tracks 
to  take  a  re-survey  of  the  spot  he  had  quitted. 

From  her  position  as  looker-on  the  girl  scanned 
the  stranger  while  he  studied  the  premises.  He  was 
well-built,  well-dressed,  and  clean-shaven,  and  car 
ried  his  head  up;  and  he  was  so  big  and  strong  and 
virile-looking  that  he  didn't  seem  to  comprehend  in 
his  aggressively  material  self  even  the  making  of  a 
ghost. 


8  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

There  was  nothing  in  that  broad-shouldered  back 
to  make  a  girl  afraid  to  pass  within  ten  feet  of  it,  so 
Mary  Elizabeth  started  with  quick  step,  mindful 
now  that  she  must  hasten  on  her  journey.  She  hoped 
to  pass  unseen,  or  thought  she  did;  but  the  swish 
of  her  skirts  on  the  dry  weeds  announced  her  move 
ments  immediately,  and  caused  the  stranger  to  turn 
quickly  in  her  direction.  The  first  look  of  keen 
curiosity  with  which  he  swept  her  seemed  to  the  self- 
conscious  girl  to  give  place  immediately  to  an  ex 
pression  of  something  like  astonishment.  The  next 
moment  he  looked  away  as  if  unmindful  of  her 
presence,  but  he  removed  his  hat  from  his  head  and 
stood  with  it  in  his  hands  till  she  had  passed  him. 

As  Mary  Elizabeth  left  the  haunted  scene  she  car 
ried  with  her  four  distinct  impressions:  The  stranger 
was  instinctively  courteous,  his  trousers  were  well 
creased  down  the  front,  he  was  surprised  at  some 
thing  his  second  look  had  seen  in  her,  and  he  was 
looking  after  her  as  she  walked  away. 

But  in  a  short  while  she  knew  that  she  was  out  of 
the  range  of  his  vision.  Then  it  was  that  she  remem 
bered  she  was  alone  and  far  from  home,  and  that 
the  night  was  creeping  upon  her.  Her  thoughts  of 
the  stranger  became  less  and  less  absorbing  as  she 
penetrated  farther  into  the  twilight  of  the  pine  for 
est  and  felt  more  and  more  the  oppression  of  its 
abiding  loneliness.  Here  were  no  romping  squir 
rels  to  keep  one  company,  no  fluttering,  falling  leaves 
to  add  a  touch  of  cheerful  color  and  sound  to  the 
whole,  no  ghosts  to  be  exorcised  by  interesting  un- 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  9 

knowns,  no  anything  but  solitude  and  the  shadows 
of  coming  night.  The  spirit  of  the  hour  and  the 
place  was  upon  her;  her  nerves,  so  lately  unstrung, 
were  tense  and  quivering  again.  A  bend  in  the 
descending  path,  and  the  girl  stopped  short.  Some 
fifty  yards  farther  down  the  way,  with  his  back 
toward  her,  a  negro  sat  on  a  stone  by  the  wayside, 
idly  whittling  a  stick.  No  spirit  of  loneliness,  no 
menace  of  coming  night,  no  ghost  from  beyond  the 
grave  to  face  now! — but 

Without  stopping  for  a  moment  to  reflect  that 
here  might  be  no  danger,  without  making  an  in 
stant's  effort  to  rally  her  courage,  the  girl  turned 
in  her  tracks  and  fled  along  the  way  she  had  come — 
back  to  the  white  man's  protection. 

But  as  she  came  again  in  sight  of  the  haunted 
house  she  slackened  her  pace  and  tried  to  rally  her 
composure.  As  she  had  desperately  hoped,  the 
stranger  was  still  there.  This  time,  he  was  trying 
to  set  straight  the  sagging  door,  so  he  did  not  hear 
her  footfall  till  she  was  very  near  him.  Admon 
ished  of  her  presence  by  the  sound  of  her  skirts  on 
the  dead  weed  stubble  again,  he  looked  up  quickly 
and  let  fall  the  sagging  door.  A  swift  second  glance, 
and  he  was  at  her  side,  asking  with  concern: 

"Why,  what's  the  matter?" 

"Nothing,  nothing,"  the  girl  protested,  uncon 
scious  that  her  white  face  gave  the  lie  to  her  words; 
"but  it's  so  late — so  dark  down  there!" 

"Who  scared  you?"  he  insisted. 

"Oh,  nobody,  nobody  at  all;   but  the  pines  are 


io          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

lonesome — and — I  thought  maybe  you  wouldn't 
mind " 

"Why,  I'm  delighted.  The  fact  is  I  was  about 
to  run,  myself,  I'm  that  afraid  of  lonesomeness! 
Wait  till  I  get  my  hat,  please,  ma'am." 

The  "please,  ma'am"  condoned  a  something  in  his 
reply  that  was  not  quite  satisfactory  to  the  girl,  and 
by  the  time  that  he  had  rescued  his  hat  from  a  low- 
hanging  limb  and  returned  to  her,  she  was  ready  to 
forget. 

"Honor  bright,"  was  his  challenge  on  returning, 
"you  did  see  somebody  that  scared  you,  didn't  you?" 

"No." 

"Well,  there's  one  thing  you  are  not  afraid  of." 

"What?" 

"The  old  Bad  Man  that  gets  girls  for  telling  what- 
you-may-call-'ems. " 

Without  more  ado  he  quietly  assumed  leadership 
and  directed  her  steps  over  the  now  no  longer 
fearsome  path  as  seemed  best  to  himself.  And 
Mary  Elizabeth  followed  where  he  led,  paused  for 
the  rough  underbrush  to  be  held  back  for  her,  and 
allowed  herself  to  be  jumped  across  the  deep  places, 
all  the  while  wondering  to  what  dim  remoteness  her 
recent  fears  had  fled.  The  spirit  of  loneliness  had 
deserted  the  green  twilight,  the  darkness  was  not 
half  bad  after  all,  and  the  lateness  down  there  had 
in  some  unaccountable  way  grown  earlier. 

"You  are  not  native  here,"  the  stranger  said  with 
conviction  as  he  held  a  hawthorn  spray  aside  for 
her  to  pass. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  n 

"Yes,  I  am." 

He  swept  her  from  head  to  foot  with  a  glance  that 
brought  the  warm  blood  to  her  cheeks,  and  then 
added  incisively:  "Then  this  is  the  Looking-glass 
House." 

"Why?"  she  demanded,  with  an  abortive  attempt 
to  return  the  all  but  impertinent  directness  of  his 
glance. 

"Because  here  I  find  myself  required  to  'believe 
seven  impossible  things  before  breakfast,'  or,  what 
is  just  as  hard,  to  believe  one  thing  that  is  seven 
times  more  incredible  than  anything  else." 

"I  can't  help  what  you  think  about  it,  it's  true. 
I  belong  to  the  hills — but  I  wasn't  reared  here." 

"Oh,  that's  the  secret  of  it!  Well,  I  fancy  you 
were  quite  a  small  baby  when  your  parents  took  you 
away."  He  was  evidently  curious  about  her  history. 

"No,"  the  girl  answered  ingenuously,  "I  was  ten 
years  old  when  I  went  to  Mobile,  and  my  father 
and  mother  were  dead."  They  walked  on  in  silence 
for  a  few  rods,  and  then  she  resumed  with  a  strange 
frankness:  "A  gentleman — one  of  these  people  we 
call  'philanthropists' — came  on  a  prospecting  tour 
through  here  about  that  time.  He  took  me  and 
educated  me  for  a  missionary  to  my  people.  Then 
he  sent  me  back." 

"He  shouldn't  have  done  it."  The  man  spoke 
with  decision. 

"Why,"  the  girl  replied  with  an  enigmatic  hard 
ness  in  her  voice,  "when  you  pay  your  money  for 
anything,  it's  surely  yours  to  do  with  as  you  please." 


12         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  man  looked  at  her  curiously  and  then  asked: 
"And  are  you  going  to  stay  here?" 

"Yes." 

"How  long?" 

"Till  I  can  pay  back  dollar  for  dollar  of  his  spend 
ing,  and  be  quits  with  his  solemn  superiority!"  she 
suddenly  flamed  out. 

There  was  silence  between  them  for  a  few  mo 
ments,  and  then  the  girl  burst  out  again  impetu 
ously:  "But  I  don't  want  to!  I  don't  want  to  be 
good.  I— I " 

The  stranger  shot  a  quick,  doubting  glance  at 
her,  but  the  next  instant  the  look  in  his  eyes  changed 
to  one  of  quiet  kindliness  as  he  finished  her  sentence 
for  her — "You  want  to  be  young." 

The  conversation  had  shifted  easily  to  a  topic 
that  would  have  been  held  sacred  from  discussion 
between  those  of  nearer  acquaintance.  The  intel 
lectual  currency  of  strangers  is  necessarily  in  big 
denominations,  lacking  the  small  coin  of  the  personal 
and  the  commonplace. 

The  bend  in  the  path  disclosed  no  terrors  this 
time,  though  the  negro  was  still  sitting  by  the  way 
side,  harmlessly  whittling  the  time  away.  A  re 
spectful  "good-evening"  from  him  as  they  ap 
proached  brought  him  to  the  man's  attention.  When 
they  had  passed,  the  stranger  grew  speculatively 
silent  and  for  some  minutes  let  the  girl  talk  on 
unaided.  At  length  he  said,  entirely  irrelevantly: 

"I  thought  there  were  no  negroes  in  this  part  of 
the  country." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  13 

"Only  a  very  few,"  she  answered. 

The  pines  were  thinning  out  now,  and  the  long 
dip  of  the  mountain  valley  was  opening  to  view. 
The  girl  hesitated,  and  stopped. 

"I  am  not  afraid  now,"  she  said;  "you  needn't 
trouble  to  come  any  farther." 

"You  are  not  home  yet?" 

"No,  but  I'm  not  afraid  on  the  big  road.  Be 
sides,  it  doesn't  seem  nearly  so  late,  now  that  we  are 
out  of  the  woods." 

"We  will  go  on,"  he  said,  with  a  quiet  setting 
aside  of  her  decision.  "The  next  time  you  pass  my 
house,"  he  continued  easily,  "I  hope  you'll  find 
some  of  the  bushes  cleared  out  of  your  path." 

"Your  house?" 

"The  one  up  there  that  I  was  inspecting." 

"But  that  house  is " 

"Yes,  and  I  have  taken  it,  'ha'nt'  and  all." 

"But  you  are  not  going  to  live  there!" 

"Indeed  I  am;  I'm  going  to  move  in  as  soon  as 
I  can  get  it  disinfected  and  cleaned  up." 

"You— you — -?" 

The  stranger  removed  his  hat.  "I  am  John  Mar 
shall,  of  Birmingham,  and  I  too  am  serving  a  term 
of  exile.  May  I  tell  you  that  I  am  glad  to  find  such 
a  denizen  as  you  in  this  worse  than  Siberia?  " 

"My  name  is  Mary  Elizabeth  Dale,"  answered 
the  girl  with  a  frank,  direct  glance.  "And  since 
you  have  to  be  exiled,  I — am  glad  that  you  are 
here." 

His  hat  was  off  again.    "Thank  you,"  he  said. 


14  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  conversation  drifted  into  an  easier  vein  after 
this,  and  they  soon  arrived  at  an  isolated  log  cabin 
which  the  girl  had  pointed  out  to  him  as  "home." 
Here,  true  to  an  inherited  custom,  the  owner  had 
religiously  cut  away  all  sheltering  trees,  leaving  his 
dwelling  exposed  to  the  pitiless  extremes  of  the  suc 
ceeding  seasons.  And  here,  as  a  consequence  of 
bad  cultivation,  the  true  soil  had  been  washed  away 
and  red  gulleys  had  ploughed  through  the  fair  pros 
pect,  sapping  the  life  of  the  fields. 

They  had  reached  the  gulley  where  the  front  gate 
should  have  stood,  and  the  girl  stopped  and  thanked 
the  stranger  by  way  of  dismissal. 

"One  moment,"  he  delayed.  "May  I  give  you 
some  advice  you  seem  to  be  sadly  in  need  of?" 

"Why,  yes,"  wonderingly. 

"You  mustn't  go  along  these  country  roads  by 
yourself.  It  isn't  safe."  Mary  Elizabeth  hesitated 
in  embarrassment,  and  he  continued:  "Do  you  often 
go  alone?" 

"Not  often,"  she  answered;  "some  of  the  school 
children  are  nearly  always  with  me." 

"You  don't  teach  school?"  There  was  a  note  of 
sharp  protest  in  the  question. 

"Yes,  I  do." 

"Well,  you  don't  look  it" — then,  whimsically: 
"Don't  ever  look  it,  hear!"  But  his  face  became 
earnest  as  he  urged:  "You  are  going  to  take  my 
advice,  aren't  you?" 

"As  far  as  I  can." 

"But  you  must  take  it." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  15 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth!"  now  came  in  sharp  nasal  tones 
from  the  cabin. 

"Yes,  I'm  coming  right  now,"  answered  the  girl, 
nervously.  "Good-night,  Mr.  Marshall — I'll  try." 

When  Mary  Elizabeth  entered  the  cabin,  the 
board  blinds  had  already  been  closed  and  a  coal- 
oil  lamp  was  smoking  on  the  supper  table.  A  sour- 
faced  old  woman,  presiding  over  a  huge  dish  of  cold 
pork  and  cow-peas,  was  flanked  on  each  side  by  a 
hairy,  black-browed  man.  Farther  down  the  table, 
a  little  slim,  yellowish,  startled-looking  girl  dangled 
a  pair  of  ineffable  legs  from  a  high  stool  and  crammed 
cold  corn-bread  and  molasses  into  her  mouth  with 
both  hands. 

Mary  Elizabeth  took  her  place  beside  "Burster," 
as  the  weird  child  was  called,  and  watched  the  proc 
ess  of  stuffing  with  interest.  But  in  a  few  minutes 
she  looked  up  from  the  child  with  a  start.  One  of 
the  men  had  precipitately  shoved  at  her  everything 
on  the  table,  and  was  regarding  her  solemnly  with 
great,  prominent  eyes,  while  his  huge  Adam's  apple 
played  up  and  down  his  scraggy  neck  with  emotion. 
The  others  were  feeding,  in  absolute  disregard  of  her. 

"Thank  you,  Babe,  but  I  don't  think  I'm  hun 
gry,"  she  said.  Then,  catching  the  look  of  anxious 
concern  in  his  ox-like  eyes,  she  added  hastily:  "Yes, 
I'll  take  a  glass  of  milk." 

As  she  replaced  the  empty  glass  upon  the  table, 
the  girl  gave  an  inward  start  and  her  erstwhile 
speculative  gaze  suddenly  widened. 

"Bud,"  she  exclaimed,  addressing  the  surly  man 


16  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

at  her  left,  "Bud,  when  a  house  has  been  a  long  time 
abandoned,  how  can  a  man  get  the  right  to  take  pos 
session  of  it?" 

Perhaps  in  her  eagerness  she  failed  to  note  that 
her  abrupt  question  brought  every  one  of  her  listen 
ers  to  silent  attention.  "Who  would  have  the  right 
to  give  him  permission?"  she  pressed. 

The  man  addressed  growled  out  an  unintelligible 
answer,  but  his  gentler  opposite  interpreted: 

"The  owner,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth." 

Dashed  by  the  surliness  of  the  morose  Bud,  the 
girl  was  silent  for  some  minutes,  but  then  burst  out 
as  with  a  sudden  inspiration: 

"Aunt  Millie — Babe — wasn't  there  a  disowned 
child  .  connected  in  some  way  with  the  haunted 
house?  It  seems  to  me  that  I  remember  hearing 
a  long  time  ago —  Say,  did  White-faced  Silas  have 


She  stopped  short,  for  Bud  had  turned  on  her  a 
look  which  sent  every  vestige  of  color  out  of  her 
face.  Aunt  Millie  advised  her  sharply  to  attend  to 
her  own  business.  She  looked  to  Babe  for  a  gen 
tle  explanation,  but  he  answered  her  never  a  word. 

But  alone  in  her  little  shed-room  that  night,  Mary 
Elizabeth  utterly  set  at  naught  Aunt  Millie's  sharp 
advice.  The  good-looking  stranger  loomed  big  in 
the  near  perspective  of  her  mental  vision,  and  she 
was  surprised  to  reflect  that  all  she  had  really  learned 
about  him  was  that  he  was  John  Marshall  of  Bir 
mingham,  and  that  he  had  taken  the  haunted  house 
for  an  indefinite  period.  Who  and  what  and  why 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  17 

he  was,  engaged  her  imagination  through  measure 
less  spaces  of  the  dark  time,  but  when  she  had  taxed 
her  faculties  to  their  utmost,  she  realized  that  she 
had  been  utterly  unable  to  make  a  place  for  him  in 
the  economy  of  this  narrow  life  here.  There  was 
— wasn't  there — a  disowned  child  somewhere?  She 
must  find  out  at  once. — But  how? 

Suddenly  a  bright  idea  came  to  her.  She  would 
ride  Sulphurina  over  to  the  store  next  Saturday  and 
ask  Uncle  Beck.  Aunt  Millie's  snufT  would  be  out 
by  that  time  and  the  old  woman  would  be  glad  to 
let  her  go. 

That  much  settled,  the  girl  made  a  strong  effort 
to  compose  herself  to  sleep,  but  other  and  more 
serious  thoughts,  thoughts  which  had  been  persist 
ently  with  her  of  late,  refused  to  be  silenced.  Rec 
ollections  of  the  grave-eyed,  reticent  man  who  for 
years  had  given  her  everything,  except  something 
of  himself,  came  back  to  haunt  her.  She  had 
thought  of  him  often,  lately,  and  those  thoughts 
had  stirred  something  within  her  that  was  strangely 
akin  to  pain. 

To-night  she  was  unaccountably  troubled.  For 
the  first  time,  she  was  unable  to  recall  his  stern 
features  in  thinking  of  him.  The  eyes  were  there, 
grave  and  unfathomable,  but  the  face — the  man — 
was  lost.  This  was  unpleasant,  and  she  made  a 
conscious  effort  to  banish  the  impression,  but  all  to 
no  purpose.  The  grave-eyed  memory  haunted  her 
last  conscious  moments,  and  lost  itself  only  in  the 
oblivion  of  a  dreamless  sleep. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  next  Saturday  found  Mary  Elizabeth  thread 
ing  her  way  through  the  gold-and-red  glory  of  a 
crisp  fall  morning  toward  Uncle  Beck  and  a  solution 
of  her  little  mystery.  Life  was  kind  to-day.  Sul- 
phurina  never  once  threatened  to  plant  her  forefeet 
in  balking  protest,  and  the  weather,  the  radiant  sea 
son,  and  all  the  scampering  wood  things  seemed  dis 
posed  to  make  things  pleasant  for  the  girl.  Then, 
some  interesting  disclosure  must  be  awaiting  her  at 
the  end  of  her  journey,  for  Uncle  Beck  would  surely 
tell  her  all  about  White-faced  Silas,  if  she  asked. 
With  the  exception  of  the  silent,  worshipful  Babe, 
Uncle  Beck  was  the  one  person  who  had  been  un 
failingly  kind  to  her  since  her  return  to  her  native 
hills,  and  she  knew  that  she  could  depend  on  him. 

Now,  "all  about  White-faced  Silas"  would,  at 
least  it  might,  explain  the  stranger's  reason  for  be 
ing.  If  it  did  not,  it  would  surely  precipitate  a 
critical  discussion  of  him,  and  she  could  listen  and 
learn  much,  without  seeming  to  be  unduly  inter 
ested  in  the  new  young  man. 

At  this  juncture,  Sulphurina  plodded  around  the 
last  bend  in  the  road  and,  across  the  green  tops  of 
a  young  red-oak  thicket,  the  little,  boxlike,  un- 
painted  frame  store  stared  at  the  girl  with  mouth 
and  eyes  wide  open.  A  rude  interruption  to  the 
day-dreams  of  Sulphurina  effected  a  quick  abridg- 

18 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  19 

ment  of  the  remaining  distance  and  landed  Mary 
Elizabeth  at  the  shelf-like  new-pine  porch  of  the 
district  store. 

The  familiar  Saturday  loungers  were  already 
there.  Several  young  men  were  pitching  horse 
shoes  in  the  dusty  space  in  front  and  wrangling  good- 
naturedly  at  each  successive  throw.  Some  three 
or  four  older  men,  stoop-shouldered,  gaunt,  and 
tanned,  stretched  their  thin  jeans-covered  legs  on 
the  porch,  and  chewed  and  spat  in  solemn  conclave. 
The  ubiquitous  small  boy,  clad  in  blue  "overalls" 
which  were  patently  over  nothing  in  the  world  but 
the  boy,  was  arranging  a  fight  between  two  cur 
dogs  on  the  steps.  Uncle  Beck,  store-keeper  and 
postmaster  and  cross-roads  wit,  was  dispensing  gos 
sip  and  hospitality  to  another  group  inside. 

"  'Light  an'  hitch,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,"  he  called  out 
cheerily  as  the  girl  rode  up.  "Come  in,  honey, 
come  in.  Hold  that  thar  hoss,  Lena — whar's  your 
manners  this  mornin'?  Lord,  but  you're  lookin' 
purty,  gal.  Ef  I  was  about  forty  year  younger, 
Babe  Davis  would  have  to  hump  hisself,  he  would!" 

When  Mary  Elizabeth  entered,  there  was  an  un 
easy,  shuffling  giving-back  of  the  group  inside, 
accompanied  by  a  round-robin  stare  and  a  sudden 
cessation  of  talk. 

A  long,  merry-eyed,  bronze-faced  man  shambled 
forward  hospitably  and  answered  the  girl's  cheery, 
"How  are  you  this  morning,  Uncle  Beck?"  with: 

"Fine,  honey,  fine;  ef  I  was  any  better  I  jes 
couldn't  stand  hit." 


20          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

With  a  flourish  of  what  stands  for  courtliness  in 
the  hills,  Uncle  Beck  "made  her  acquainted"  with 
the  half-dozen  others  who  responded  to  her  greeting 
with  the  shy  but  independent  bearing  that  the  girl 
had  come  to  recognize  as  characteristic.  In  that 
one  minute,  however,  it  became  apparent  that  a 
segregating  element  had  been  introduced  into  the 
erstwhile  unified  group,  so  Uncle  Beck,  after  a  few 
more  kindly  phrases,  introduced  Mary  Elizabeth  to 
his  combination  clerk-and-stable-boy  as  the  "Queen 
of  Sheeby,"  with  the  order  that  she  be  given  the 
whole  store,  and  himself  set  about  repairing  the 
break  in  the  flow  of  neighborhood  gossip.  He 
draped  his  loose  frame  over  a  split-bottomed  chair, 
and  soon  had  his  little  group  talking  easily,  if  more 
quietly,  again.  This  was  just  what  the  girl  wished, 
so  she  took  a  seat  on  a  cracker-box,  with  her  back 
to  the  loungers,  and  examined  bolt  after  bolt  of 
blue  and  red  calico  with  lingering  indecision,  all 
the  while  keeping  her  ears  open  and  her  understand 
ing  alert. 

"No,  sir-ee,"  it  was  Uncle  Beck's  voice  speaking, 
"he  didn't  bring  His-High-an'-Mightiness  down  here 
to  do  his  own  pickin',  but  he  jes  sent  that  thar  man 
of  his  with  a  roll  o'  money  as  big  as  my  arm.  An' 
ef  you'll  b'lieve  me,  the  feller  come  mighty  nigh 
buyin'  out  my  whole  stock.  Why,  canned  simmons 
ain't  no  more  to  him  than  sweet  pertaters,  an'  he 
jes  perched  hisse'f  a-straddle  of  a  pile  of  our  best 
jeans  breeches  an'  waved  his  hand  at  the  shelf  o' 
peaches  an'  pineapples  an'  he  says,  says  'e, '  I'll  take 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  21 

all  you  got  left  of  that  thar  swill,  pardner.'  After  I 
had  done  got  all  his  money,  I  passed  a  compliment 
on  him  he  didn't  seem  to  'predate."  Uncle  Beck 
chuckled,  and  the  expected  question  came: 

"What'dyousay?" 

"Why,  I  up  an'  says,  says  I,  'Sonny,  you  have 
got  a  'complishment  what  I  ain't  never  met  up  with 
before — you  air  the  fust  mortal  man  I  ever  see 
what  could  strut  settin'  down!' ' 

After  the  slow,  solemn  chuckle  had  subsided,  a 
strange  voice  questioned: 

"Wa-al,  Beck,  Minervy  told  me  that  she  had 
heerd  that  you  said  the  feller's  boss  actually  bought 
curtains  for  his  winders.  Is  that  so?" 

"So?  Of  course  hit's  so!  By  gum,  didn't  we 
nearly  have  to  tear  up  the  whole  establishment  to 
please  him?" 

"The  man  what  hangs  curtains  to  his  winders 
has  got  something  to  hide!"  From  the  direction  and 
the  timbre  of  the  voice  Mary  Elizabeth  judged  that 
the  molasses  barrel  had  delivered  itself. 

"You  never  said  a  truer  word,  Shan  Thaggin," 
put  in  another.  "For  my  part  I  don't  put  any  too 
much  trust  in  a  man  what  can  live  in  a  ha'nted 
house.  Seems  like  to  me  that  this  here  neighbor 
hood  has  had  enough  trouble  along  o'  that  place  o' 
Silas's,  'thout  gittin'  mixed  up  with  'spicious  char 
acters  nobody  can't  find  out  a  durn  thing  about." 

"Wa-al,  I  never  was  one  to  balk  at  a  bridge  when 
I  got  to  hit,  but  I  don't  cross  beforehand,  neither, 
so  I'm  for  waitin'  till  we  git  thar." 


22  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

There  was  a  finality  in  Uncle  Beck's  tone  that 
caused  Mary  Elizabeth  to  fear  he  was  about  to 
change  the  subject,  so  she  turned  around  quickly 
with  the  question: 

"Uncle  Beck,  did  White-faced  Silas  leave  any 
children?" 

A  second  of  dead  silence  threw  the  question  into 
bold  relief,  but  the  next  minute  Uncle  Beck  gathered 
his  long  legs  under  him  noisily,  rose  to  his  feet,  and 
walked  squarely  up  to  the  questioning  girl. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  stick  out  your  tongue.  Ah,  ha!" 
— after  she  had  complied — "jes  what  I  'lowed. 
Hit's  your  liver,  child.  That's  what's  makin'  your 
'magination  git  the  best  of  you.  Now  you  go  home, 
and  to-night  you  take  an'  take  a  dost  o'  calomel. 
Jes  about  as  much  as  you  kin  pile  on  a  dime — "  A 
smothered  laugh  from  the  others  broke  into  Uncle 
Beck's  directions,  and  somebody  called  out: 

"Ast  Shan  Thaggin  how  much!" 

"Don't  min'  them — "  Uncle  Beck  was  answering 
the  sudden  flush  that  overspread  the  girl's  face. 
"The  joke's  on  Shan.  That's  him  over  thar  on  the 
'lasses  bar'l,  leastways  that's  what's  left  of  him. 
The  boys  is  laughin'  at  him  all  on  account  of  a  per 
fectly  nachul  mistake."  Uncle  Beck  squared  him 
self  about  for  a  narrative,  and  the  crowd  smiled  ex 
pectantly — all  except  the  mossy-looking,  bow-legged 
figure  on  the  molasses  barrel.  He  dropped  his  head 
sheepishly. 

"You  see  hit  was  this  a- way,"  continued  the  old 
man  after  he  had  made  sure  of  an  attentive  audi- 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  23 

ence:  "Shan  had  been  mopin'  round  here  kinder 
lopsided  for  weeks,  an'  he  got  tur'ble  skeered  he 
had  caught  the  blind  staggers,  so  I  up  an'  diagnosed 
him.  I  found  hit  to  be  a  clear  case  o'  bile,  so  I  told 
him  to  take  jes  p'intedly  what  I  told  you.  Now 
Shan  didn't  have  no  dime  piece,  but  he  had  the 
change  for  hit,  an'  he  follered  the  perscription  ac- 
cordin'  to  the  best  of  his  lights." 

"An'  they  do  say  hit  larnt  him  a  lesson,"  broke 
in  one  of  the  listeners. 

"Wa-al,  Shan  ain't  no  scholard  yit,  but,  by  gosh, 
he  knows  the  diff'rence  'tween  a  dime  an'  two  nickles, 
all  right!  Say,  Shan,  hit  ain't  sence  you  took  the 
calomel  that  you  'fused  to  send  Tony  to  look  for  a 
bee-tree  on  the  right-hand  side  o'  the  big  road  'cause 
he  was  left-handed,  is  it?" 

"Uncle  Beck,  you  haven't  answered  my  question 
yet."  Mary  Elizabeth  stepped  forward,  and  pur 
posely  diverted  the  attention  of  the  laughing  group 
from  the  shamefaced  figure  on  the  molasses  barrel. 

"Your  question?  Land  save  us!  What  ques 
tion,  child?" 

"Did  White-faced  Silas  leave  any  children?" 
Again  a  momentary  quiet  fixed  the  group,  then  Uncle 
Beck  drawled  with  deliberation: 

"'Did  White-face  Silas  leave  any  childern?'  you 
say.  'Leave  childern!'  Wa-al,  child,  all  I  got  to  say 
is  that  the  only  offspring  Silas  was  harborin'  endur- 
in'  my  knowledge  of  him  was  seven  devils,  an'  hit's 
mostly  considered  hereabouts  that  he  took  them 
with  him  when  he  left." 


24  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  unusual  sound  of  a  brisk,  light  step  on  the 
porch  attracted  everybody's  attention,  and  Mary 
Elizabeth  turned  to  see  a  smug-faced  young  man, 
clad  in  an  impertinently  new  "store-bought"  suit 
and  wearing  a  bright-red  tie,  strut  in. 

"Well,  old  cuckle-burr,  got  anything  fit  for  me  to 
eat  this  mornin'?"  he  demanded. 

Uncle  Beck  grew  reflective  as  a  roll  of  bills  was 
ostentatiously  spread  out  on  the  counter,  but  a 
black-browed  native  plucked  the  store-keeper  by  the 
coat  and  said  distinctly: 

"Beck,  thar''s  a  sack  o'  new  oats  out  thar  on  my 
wagin." 

The  young  man  opened  his  mouth,  but  shut  it 
again,  and  turned  to  the  proprietor,  at  the  same 
time  laying  a  queer,  antiquated-looking  pistol  on 
the  counter  in  front  of  him. 

"I  keep  this  as  a  kinder  little  souvenir,"  he  said. 
"My  grandfather  carried  it  in  the  war,  and  I  always 
like  to  show  it  to  my  friends." 

Uncle  Beck  quieted  the  crowd  with  a  swift  glance, 
and  then  said,  with  cheerful  interest,  as  he  adjusted 
his  spectacles  and  leaned  over  the  weapon : 

"Carried  it  in  the  war,  did  he?  Lord,  but  hit 
ain't  no  wonder  we  got  licked !  Now,  sonny, '  souve 
nirs  '  is  valu'ble  an'  oughtn't  to  be  left  layin'  around. 
You  jes  put  this  one  back  in  your  jeans — hit'll  be 
safer." 

The  young  bully  caught  the  full  meaning  of  the 
other's  straight  look  and  followed  his  advice,  if  a 
trifle  slowly.  Then  the  others  began  to  talk  among 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  25 

themselves  with  quiet  restraint,  Mary  Elizabeth 
watching  both  groups  with  her  heart  in  her  mouth. 
After  about  ten  minutes'  bargaining,  however,  in 
which  he  proved  the  mettle  of  both  Uncle  Beck's 
and  the  stable-boy's  patience,  the  aggressive  new 
comer  grew  loquacious  again. 

"What's  them  new-fangled  lookin'  slats?"  he  de 
manded,  as  a  drove  of  lean,  long-snouted  hogs  came 
squealing  up  to  the  side  door. 

"Them,  sonny?  Them's  'razor-backs.'  We  call 
'em  that  'cause  they're  sharp  enough  to  keep  out  o' 
trouble." 

"And  what  in  hell-and-high- water  do  you  keep  'em 
for?" — He  was  plainly  determined  to  be  disagree 
able. 

Uncle  Beck  scratched  the  scant  beard  under  his 
chin,  and  replied  with  childlike  blandness: 

"We — we  keeps  'em  to  fight  with,  sonny." 

"The  distinguishin'  trait  of  a  hog  o'  that  kind  is 
that  he's  middlin'  polite."  It  was  the  black-browed 
native  speaking  again.  Mary  Elizabeth  sent  a 
glance  over  the  man's  powerful  frame  and  set  face, 
and  decided  that  here  was  a  man  who  would  make 
a  dangerous  enemy. 

"Who  is  he?"  she  whispered  to  the  boy. 

"Who,  him?  That's  Trav  Williams,  an'  he  don't 
take  nothin'  off'n  nobody,"  was  the  comforting  re 
ply. 

"Are  you  going  to  live  here?"  Mary  Elizabeth 
asked  the  question  as  an  excuse  to  come  forward  and 
stand  between  Trav  Williams  and  the  reckless  new- 


26  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

comer,  for  there  was  ominous  silence  between  them. 

"What?"  exclaimed  the  young  fellow,  taking  her 
in  from  head  to  foot  with  a  stare  of  impertinent 
approval.  "No,  ma'am,  I'll  be  through  here  to-mor 
row — then  me  for  Birmingham,  and  the  boss  can 
have  the  scenery  to  himself!" 

"Is  he  lookin'  for  trouble?"  The  query  came 
from  Trav  Williams. 

"Well,  don't  you  give  yourself  no  uneasiness.  If 
he  is,  he's  the  stuff  to  find  it  all  right,  all  right." 

"Will  you  get  my  horse  for  me?  I  see  she  has 
strayed  off." 

"Charmed,  miss!"  The  bully  forgot  his  brewing 
quarrel  in  his  gallantry,  and  was  soon  at  cooling  dis 
tance,  out  in  the  open,  leading  the  captured  Sul- 
phurina  to  the  edge  of  the  porch. 

Uncle  Beck  followed  Mary  Elizabeth  to  her  mount, 
and  as  they  went  she  whispered: 

"Make  him  go  home,  hear!" 

"I  will,  child,  an'  you  are  wuth  your  weight  in 
Arbuckle's  coffee."  When  she  was  comfortably 
seated  on  Sulphurina's  broad  back  with  her  foot  in 
the  stirrup,  she  looked  straight  into  the  old  man's 
clear  eyes  and  asked: 

"Uncle  Beck,  what  made  you  all  look  at  each 
other  so  quickly  when  I  asked  about  White-faced 
Silas?" 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth" — and  his  tone  was  at  once  a 
protest  and  a  caress — "hit  weren't  to  say  exactly 
' proper'  for  a  young  woman  to  be  astin'  questions 
about  ha'nts." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  27 

The  girl  leaned  forward  and  placed  her  hand  firmly 
on  his  shoulder. 

"Don't  you  know  you  can't  fool  me?"  she  de 
manded. 

"La,  honey,  I've  fooled  likelier  gals  than  you." 
Then  seriously:  "Now  look  a-here,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth, 
you  go  home  an'  stop  'maginin'  'bout  things  you 
ain't  got  nothin'  to  do  with.  Ef  White-face  Silas 
air  a  proper  subject  for  you  to  be  talkin'  'bout,  he 
certainly  ain't  a  popular  one,  so  you  keep  your 
mouth  off'n  him. — Child,"  he  continued  more  gen 
tly,  "jes  because  your  Uncle  Beck  don't  want  you 
mixin'  up  with  things  that  wouldn't  do  you  no  good, 
ain't  no  sign  he  wouldn't  fight  for  you  ef  you  needed 
him."  A  laughing  call  from  the  store  broke  in,  and 
Uncle  Beck  dismissed  her  with: 

"Good-by,  gal;  take  care  o'  yourself." 

Sulphurina  became  brisk  and  cheerful  as  soon  as 
she  was  headed  toward  home,  but  her  good  spirits 
were  quickly  dashed,  for  the  young  rider  suddenly 
took  a  crotchety  notion  and  fairly  dragged  her  into 
a  rocky  bridle-path  that  led  almost  straight  up  the 
flanking  hill.  "Stony  Lonesome"  was  by  no  means 
an  easy  ascent  for  an  old  mare  to  climb,  nor  did  its 
forest-clad  sides  offer  any  sort  of  trail  that  a  young 
woman  riding  alone  should  elect  to  follow;  but 
Mary  Elizabeth  had  lost  something  the  other  day, 
over  the  summit  yonder,  and  she  now  suddenly 
decided  to  go  in  quest  of  it. 

Past  the  mountain  crest  and  half-way  down  its 
farther  side,  and  the  girl  reined  in  her  horse  be- 


28          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

fore  all  she  had  ever  known  as  "home."  It  was  a 
little  tumbled-down,  deserted  log  cabin  clinging  to 
and  subsiding  against  the  gray,  crumbling  rocks  of 
the  hillside,  and  nearly  swallowed  up  by  a  rank 
growth  of  heaven  trees  and  pokeberry  bushes. 
Judging  by  appearances,  it  partly  grew  and  partly 
happened — a  sort  of  fungous  thing,  a  product  of  the 
gray  rottenness  all  around. 

How  had  the  change  been  wrought?  Once  its 
door-way  was  wide  and  welcoming,  its  black  rafters 
were  high,  high  overhead.  Once  there  was  a  sense 
of  bigness  and  dignity  and  freedom  here.  Now— now 
— had  the  very  portal  shrunk?  And  could  a  man 
stand  upright  beneath  that  low,  mean  roof?  It 
wasn't  fair!  It  wasn't  fair!  Memory  had  broken 
her  promise.  The  very  mountains — they  that  erst 
while  stood  for  the  sublime,  the  unattainable — had 
by  some  heartbreaking  black  magic  been  trans 
formed  into  low,  commonplace  hills.  Lost!  Lost! — 
the  illusions  of  childhood — and  never  to  be  recalled ! 

The  girl  urged  her  horse  back  along  the  path  she 
could  no  longer  see,  unmindful  now  whether  Sul- 
phurina  stumbled  over  bowlders  that  might  have 
been  avoided,  or  plunged  knee-deep  into  leafy  drifts 
of  color,  nearly  flinging  her  from  the  saddle. 

She  was  young,  and  nobody  had  ever  told  her 
that  the  only  way  to  keep  the  past  is  to  turn  one's 
back  to  it  and  resolutely  face  the  future. 

"Aren't  you  riding  pretty  recklessly?" 

Mary  Elizabeth  hastily  brushed  the  hot  tears  from 
before  her  vision,  and  saw,  sitting  idly  on  a  splendid 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  29 

bay  horse  as  if  taking  a  survey  of  the  scene,  the 
stranger  tenant  of  the  haunted  house. 

He  was  regarding  her  amusedly  as  Sulphurina 
stumbled  toward  him,  but  a  surer  look  into  her  face 
seemed  to  embarrass  him. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said  courteously,  as  he 
made  room  for  her  to  pass. 

Sulphurina  pursued  her  stubborn  way,  headed 
homeward  now,  and  had  gone  several  lengths  beyond 
him  when  the  girl,  realizing  that  she  had  not  an 
swered  the  stranger's  question,  looked  back. 

"May  I  come?"  he  asked,  interpreting  her  back 
ward  glance,  and  the  next  minute  he  was  riding 
beside  her.  When  he  at  last  got  his  steed's  mettle 
some  gait  reined  in  to  suit  Sulphurina's  plodding, 
the  stranger  ventured,  but  with  very  apparent  dif 
fidence: 

"Let  me  tell  you  something.  I'm  going  to  rack 
and  ruin  here  with  nothing  to  do.  Now,  if  you 
could  manage  to  use  me,  if  you  would  let  me  help 
you — in  anything  that  troubled  you,  you  know,  it 
would  be  a  positive  charity  to  me.  It  really  would." 

If  he  had  said  anything  else  under  the  sun,  Mary 
Elizabeth  could  have  kept  her  grip,  but  everybody 
had  failed  her  this  morning,  and — she  dropped  the 
bridle  on  the  horse's  neck  and  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands. 

"  Why,  child,  what  is  it?  Don't,  don't  cry ! "  He 
laid  one  hand  on  Sulphurina's  mane  to  stay  her 
straying  steps  and  leaned  forward  toward  the  sob 
bing  girl. 


30  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"What  is  it?"  he  urged. 

"Oh,  nothing,  nothing — just  everything"  Mary 
Elizabeth  sobbed. 

"Well,  it's  a  burning  shame,  that's  what  it  is. 
The  idea  of  condemning  a  girl  like  you  to  this! 
And  that's  ' philanthropy'!  If  I  had  my  way  I'd 
string  up  every  carping  sentimentalist  in  the 
bunch." 

"Don't!"  she  suddenly  surprised  herself  with. 
"I  mustn't  let  you  talk  that  way.  You  don't  ap 
preciate — you  and  I  don't  appreciate  what  he  tried 
to  do!" 

There  was  a  slight  surprise  in  the  eyes  of  the  stran 
ger  as  he  answered: 

"Oh,  well,  if  you  say  so.  But  you  can't  stand 
this.  It's  inhuman,  besides  it  isn't  practicable,  and 
it  isn't  safe.  The  thing  for  you  to  do  is  to  go  home." 

"I  haven't  any  home." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  remember.  But  why  not  get  you  a 
job  within  the  limits  of  civilization?" 

"Because,  because,  somehow  I  belong  to  Mr.  Fen- 
wick,  and  must  do  what  he  says  till  I  can  buy  myself 
back  from  him  by  paying  him  what  he  has  spent 
on  me." 

"Now,  if  you  only  had  some  piece  of  property 
that  would— 

The  girl  looked  at  him  quickly,  forgetful  of  her 
wet  lashes. 

"There's  a  place  here  that  was  my  father's,"  she 
said.  "I  have  always  thought  I  would  sell  it  and 
pay  Mr.  Fenwick  and  be  free  of  all  this.  But " 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  31 

"Well,  by  George,  there  are  possibilities  here,  do 
you  know!  Where  is  the  land? " 

"Over  there,"  and  her  face  lighted  with  excited 
expectancy  as  she  pointed  over  the  crest  of  the  hill. 

"Oh,  beyond  the  ridge!  Well,  I'm  afraid  not," 
and  the  interest  died  out  of  his  voice.  He  didn't 
seem  to  see  the  look  of  heartbreak  that  swept  over 

her  face  at  his  answer,  but,  all  the  same,  he  took 

. 
the  course  that  was  best  calculated  to  dispel  it. 

"Come,"  he  suggested,  "let's  ride  along  the  sum 
mit.  The  scenery  is  quite  pretty  in  places."  If 
his  intention  was  to  divert  her,  he  succeeded  flat 
teringly  as  they  threaded  their  way  along  the  indis 
tinct  trail,  and  talked  of  many  things. 

Mary  Elizabeth's  long  experience  under  the  dragon- 
like  chaperonage  of  a  girls'  boarding-school  had  but 
served  to  heighten  her  natural  curiosity  in  regard  to 
the  proscribed  sex,  and  she  enjoyed  to  the  full  this 
first  perfectly  free  intercourse  with  a  being  who 
seemed  to  take  a  firmer,  more  vital,  hold  than  her 
self  on  everything,  and  yet  to  be  able  to  sympathize 
with  her.  Mary  Elizabeth  decided  that  she  liked 
men. 

"Look,"  he  suddenly  exclaimed,  as  they  came  out 
on  a  bald  knob  that  commanded  a  view  of  the  whole 
narrow  valley. 

"Beautiful,  isn't  it?"  she  assented. 

"Oh,  yes,  quite  pretty,  but  see  that  ridge  over 
yonder?  Now  follow  that  line  of  hills — see?  They 
make  a  perfect  cup  of  this  vale  of  woe  of  ours;  and 
the  only  break  in  the  rim  at  all  is  there  to  the  left, 


32  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

where  Deer  Creek  tumbles  out  into  the  world.  By 
George,  it's  the  prettiest  proposition  I  ever  got  my 
hands  on!" 

The  girl  turned  from  the  "pretty  proposition"  to 
wonder  at  the  change  in  the  man.  The  quiet  self- 
possession,  the  almost  cold  reserve  of  his  wonted 
manner  had  vanished.  If  there  had  been  anything 
to  cause  excitement,  Mary  Elizabeth  would  have 
suspected  the  stranger  of  some  such  emotion.  His 
cheek  was  flushed,  his  voice  enthusiastic,  his 
eyes  were  shining  like  a  prophet's  at  the  thing  he 
saw. 

Her  gaze  followed  the  direction  of  his  powerful 
outstretched  arm  again,  and  she  said,  wistfully: 

"Yes,  and  it's  so  peaceful.  They  are  happy  there 
because  they  have  never  been  torn  from  their  proper 
setting.  Peace  like  that  ought  to  go  undisturbed 
forever." 

"Are  you  talking  about  these  blooming  natives?" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  excuse  me!  I'd  like  to — "  he  didn't  say 
what. 

Suddenly  the  scene  at  the  cross-roads  store  came 
back  to  the  girl,  weighted  with  portentousness. 

"Mr.  Marshall,"  she  broke  in,  "you  gave  me  a 
piece  of  advice  the  other  day.  I  wonder  if  you'll 
take  a  little  from  me." 

"You  didn't  take  mine." 

"Why— I " 

"Resist  the  impulse!"  he  banteringly  interrupted. 
"Now,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  you  have  walked  home 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  33 

from  school  alone  twice  since  then — yesterday  and 
the  day  before." 

"How  do  you  know?" 

"A  friend  of  yours  loafed  around  the  vicinity  of 
the  worst  part  of  your  route  to  see  that  the  lone- 
someness  didn't  get  you." 

A  flush  of  pleasure  crept  up  the  girl's  pale  cheek. 
This  also  was  a  nice  characteristic  of  the  proscribed 
sex — this  instinct  to  protect. 

"I  didn't  know  that  I  had  a  friend,"  she  said 
softly. 

"You  have,  or  you  haven't,  as  you  yourself  elect. 
If  you  will  take  me  on  my  own  recommendation,  I 
shall  appreciate  being  allowed  to  be  your  friend." 
He  was  leaning  toward  her  as  he  spoke.  Mary 
Elizabeth  regarded  him  with  open-eyed,  frank  specu 
lation  for  a  moment,  then  looked  to  the  distant 
hills  for  the  inspiration  of  an  answer.  After  some 
embarrassing  minutes,  however,  she  turned  to  him, 
still  perplexed. 

"I — I — beg  your  pardon,  but  there  don't  seem  to 
be  any  standards  I  can  lay  hold  of,"  she  returned. 
"You  see,  I  have  been  in  a  boarding-school  all  my 
life,  and,  you  know,  this  would  be  very  improper 
at  the  seminary." 

"You  roomed  with  the  matron,  didn't  you?" 

The  girl's  eyes  questioned  him  again,  then  flashed 
suddenly. 

"No,  I'm  not  sissy,  either,  if  I  did  room  with  Miss 
Belle,  and  I'm  perfectly  able  to  do  my  own  thinking, 
thank  you!" 


34          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"Why,  of  course,  of  course!"  He  rubbed  his 
hand  over  his  mouth  thoughtfully,  and  veiled  his 
eyes  from  her  indignant  glance.  Mary  Elizabeth 
had  just  decided  that  he  was  not  smiling  behind  his 
hand,  when  he  said  in  a  flattering,  conciliating  tone : 

"If  I  had  remembered  the  independence  of  your 
people,  I  should  have  known  that  you  would  do 
your  own  thinking." 

A  red  glow  spread  over  her  smooth  white  skin, 
and  the  girl  said,  with  pleased,  hesitating  embar 
rassment: 

"I'm  sure  it's  all  right  for  us  to  be  friends." 

"Thank  you!"  he  said  quickly,  and  she  flushed 
again  with  pleasure  as  he  uncovered  his  head. 

Mary  Elizabeth  suddenly  remembered  something. 
"Since  we  are  friends,"  she  urged,  "you'll  listen  to 
my  advice."  Then,  without  any  other  preface,  she 
told  him  of  the  incident  she  had  just  witnessed  at 
the  store,  leaving  out  not  a  single  detail,  and  warn 
ing  him  against  incurring  the  ill-will  of  the  natives. 
The  man  listened  in  grave,  attentive  silence,  and 
thanked  her  very  genuinely,  when  she  had  finished. 

"Who  is  that  man?"  she  queried. 

"Why,  in  real  life  he's  my  chauffeur.  I  brought 
him  here  as  man-of-all-work,  but  I  seem  to  have 
made  a  mistake." 

"You  certainly  have,  and  the  sooner  you  get  rid 
of  him,  the  better  it  will  be." 

"He  has  already  served  notice  on  me  that  he's 
going  to  leave  to-morrow,  and  I  shan't  try  to  de 
tain  him." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  35 

"You'll  miss  him,  won't  you?" 

"Yes,  he's  a  fair  cook,  but  I've  lived  on  light- 
bread  and  ants  before." 

Mary  Elizabeth  was  suddenly  impelled  to  ask  a 
strangely  frank  question: 

"You,  yourself — you  are  friendly  to  them,  aren't 
you?" 

The  girl  shrank  inwardly  as  he  stripped  the  bright 
leaves  from  a  sumac  bough  with  a  sudden  cut  of  his 
riding- whip. 

"I  don't  care  that  for  them!"  he  said.  "Say, 
let's  go  to  the  falls,  will  you?  There's  a  short  cut 
through  here." 

But  the  girl  laid  a  quick  hand  on  his  bridle. 

"No,  no,"  she  said  with  concern,  "not  that  way; 
that's  the  graveyard,  and  we'd  be  sure  to  trample 
some  of  the  graves." 

"And  would  that  be  'bad  luck'?"  He  smiled 
teasingly. 

"No,  it  would  be  desecration,"  she  said.  He 
turned  his  horse's  head  and  followed  her  down  a 
path  of  her  own  choosing. 

At  the  crossing  of  another  bridle-path  they  came 
suddenly  face  to  face  with  a  rusty-looking  native, 
mounted  on  a  "flea-bit"  mule.  It  was  Babe  Davis. 
Mary  Elizabeth  gave  him  a  friendly  greeting,  but 
he  hardly  murmured  a  response  as  he  took  the  flank 
ing  bushes  to  let  them  pass. 

"Your  friend  didn't  seem  very  glad  to  see  you," 
remarked  her  companion,  after  they  had  passed. 
"Look  yonder.  He  has  stopped  stock-still  to  gaze 


36          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

after  you!"  But  Mary  Elizabeth  didn't  look,  and 
after  a  little,  Babe  Davis  and  the  incident  were  far 
behind  them. 

At  the  falls  they  dismounted,  and  John  Marshall 
tethered  their  horses  to  the  bushes  and  began  to 
blaze  their  way  to  the  best  coign  of  vantage.  Mary 
Elizabeth  found  a  strange  new  delight  in  his  mas 
culine  attitude  of  eagerness  to  serve.  It  was  fun 
climbing  down  the  cliff,  supported  at  one  moment 
and  lifted  bodily  down  at  the  next,  and  arriving  on 
the  table-rock  fresh  and  unscratched,  while  this 
creature  who  took  everything  on  himself  showed  the 
stain  and  strain  of  the  double  toil  but  actually  seemed 
to  enjoy  it. 

"Don't  you  wish  you  were  a  girl?"  she  asked, 
when  he  had  safely  landed  her. 

" Good  Lord,  no/" 

He  held  her  while  she  leaned  far  over  the  ledge 
for  a  view  of  the  falls.  Directly  beneath  her  gaze 
the  billowy  white  veil  made  a  sheer  drop  of  fifty 
feet  and  seethed  and  boiled  in  the  lake  below. 

"Oh,  it's  beautiful — awful!"  she  exclaimed,  re 
treating. 

"Twenty  thousand  horse-power  at  least." 

Mary  Elizabeth  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  but 
he  failed  to  see  the  questioning  surprise  with  which 
she  regarded  him.  He  was  leaning  over  the  cataract 
now,  gazing  down  the  ever-falling  flood,  and  his  eyes 
were  narrow  and  intent.  After  a  little  he  turned 
to  her: 

"Look  there,"  he  exclaimed,  taking  in  with  a 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  37 

sweeping  gesture  the  narrow  chasm;  "this  is  the 
only  break  in  the  hill-line,  and  it  could  be  dammed 
for  a  song." 

"Don't  you  admire  beauty?" 

He  turned  from  contemplation  of  their  surround 
ings  and  swept  her  with  a  glance  from  her  crown 
of  wind-blown  curls  to  the  bows  on  her  shoes,  and 
back  again  to  the  level  of  her  proud,  shrinking 
glance. 

"Exceedingly!"  he  said  with  emphasis. 

Mary  Elizabeth  all  at  once  had  a  feeling  that  his 
eyes  were  less  courteous  than  the  rest  of  him,  and 
she  concluded  she  had  been  a  little  hasty  in  her  de 
cision  about  liking  men.  For  the  first  time  during 
their  interview,  the  girl  realized  that  she  was  alone 
in  the  woods  with  a  perfectly  strange  man.  With 
a  sudden  accession  of  dignity  she  inquired  the  time. 
...  It  was  one  o'clock — an  hour  after  Aunt  Millie's 
dinner  time !  Mary  Elizabeth  paled. 

"I  must  go  home  at  once,"  she  exclaimed.  "Oh, 
what  made  me  do  this!  She'll  be  furious." 

They  made  a  hasty  return  to  their  horses,  and 
took  the  shortest  way  home.  The  stranger  was  so 
attentive  on  the  way,  and  so  confessedly  repentant 
for  having  laid  her  liable  to  a  berating  from  Aunt 
Millie,  that  they  were  quite  sympathetic  friends  be 
fore  the  journey  ended.  As  they  came  out  into  the 
"big  road,"  he  said  in  the  tone  of  one  who  is  con 
veying  pleasant  news: 

"I'm  coming  to  visit  the  school  soon." 

"Oh,  no   you  are  not!"  she  protested.     "I — I 


38  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

mean  please  don't,  I'd  be  so  embarrassed — I  don't 
know  how  to  teach." 

"Then  you  need  supervising." 

"I  don't  care  if  I  do.  You  shan't  come,  you 
hear?" 

"It's  a  public  school." 

"I  know  it  is— but " 

"Well,  I'm  one  of  the  public." 

"I  don't  care  if  you  are,  you  haven't  any  children 
to  send  to  school." 

"How  do  you  know  I  haven't?" 

Mary  Elizabeth  was  left  with  her  mouth  open, 
and  the  stranger  was  looking  at  her  with  a  perfectly 
grave  face.  An  opportune  bend  in  the  road  dis 
closed  the  Davis  cabin  in  the  dim  distance,  and 
Mary  Elizabeth  reined  in  her  horse. 

"Do  you  know,"  she  said  deprecatingly,  "I  be 
lieve  I'd  rather  you  wouldn't  come  any  farther — 
these  people  are  so — so " 

"The  world  we  have  always  with  us?  Not  here, 
surely — but  if  you'd  rather  I  wouldn't — "  His  eyes 
were  frankly  amused  as  he  held  his  hat  in  his  hand 
and  reined  his  horse  back  for  her  to  pass;  then  he 
turned  rein  and  took  a  bridle-path  that  led  sharply 
to  the  left. 

Mary  Elizabeth  and  Sulphurina  followed  the  main 
woodland  road  with  a  stolid  deliberateness,  but 
hardly  a  hundred  or  so  yards  had  been  accom 
plished  by  the  mare  when  her  rider  suddenly  jerked 
her  back  almost  to  her  haunches.  Something  was 
running  through  the  underbrush! 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  39 

Any  horse  in  the  world  but  Sulphurina  would  have 
shied  at  this  juncture,  for  the  sharp  crack  of  a 
nearby  rifle  suddenly  split  the  air,  and  the  next 
minute  some  half-dozen  young  men  leaped,  scram 
bled,  or  fell  over  the  rail  fence  that  bounded  one  of 
the  flanking  stretches  of  woodland,  dragging  what 
Mary  Elizabeth  vaguely  guessed  to  be  instruments 
for  surveying. 

"'Over  the  fence  is  out'!"  laughed  one  of  them. 
"Gee,  but  I'll  not  give  him  another  crack  at  me!" 

" Duck!  He's  loading  again!"  exclaimed  one  of 
them  excitedly,  and  before  the  astonished  girl  could 
realize  what  had  happened,  the  whole  party  had 
scurried  across  the  road  right  in  front  of  her,  pitched 
over  the  opposite  fence,  and  lost  themselves  in  an 
overgrown  ravine  immediately  beyond. 

Mary  Elizabeth  startled  Sulphurina  into  a  hard 
trot  with  a  shower  of  cuts  from  her  switch,  for,  from 
out  the  bushes  some  distance  up  the  opposing  slope, 
had  looked  the  sinister  face  of  Trav  Williams. 


CHAPTER  III 

ON  the  Monday  afternoon  following  her  visit  to 
the  store  Mary  Elizabeth  took  occasion  to  walk 
home  from  school  with  the  Thaggin  children  to  see 
what  could  be  done  toward  getting  parental  co-op 
eration  in  her  struggles  to  control  and  teach  them. 
There  were  five  of  them,  muddy-faced,  but  stub 
bornly  independent  young  souls  withal.  Mary  Eliz 
abeth,  clear-faced,  but  stubborn  and  independent 
in  much  the  same  degree,  walked  with  them  now, 
and  wondered  if  she  could  hope  for  help  from  the 
mother  of  such  a  brood. 

The  girl  was  too  young  to  see  that  the  qualities 
of  character  which  made  these  children  hard  to  con 
quer  were  the  very  qualities  which  made  her,  the 
teacher,  determined  to  rule  her  little  kingdom.  She 
was  too  inexperienced  to  realize  that  this  spirit  of 
independence,  so  universally  characteristic  of  the 
hill  type  and,  in  these  youngsters,  so  aggressively 
insistent  for  positive  expression,  was  the  trait  that, 
within  herself,  willingly  sacrificed  the  outward  sem 
blance  of  freedom  to  its  substantial,  ultimate  tri 
umph. 

In  order  to  win  back  her  independence,  she  must 
repay  her  benefactor,  must  "be  even  with  him"; 
and  in  spite  of  her  wild,  rebel  heart,  a  higher  some 
thing  within  moved  her  to  accede  to  his  terms,  if 

40 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  41 

with  a  grim  submissiveness.  She  would  not  only 
stay  here  until  she  had  paid  back  every  dollar  that 
she  owed  him,  but  she  would  do  well  the  work  to 
which  he  had  condemned  her.  And  again  there 
stirred  within  her  memory  of  him  that  indefinable 
something  that  was  strangely  akin  to  pain.  Then, 
thanks  to  a  drifting  wood  scent,  the  scene  changed: 
She  was  being  lifted  down  to  the  table-rock  again, 
and  the  arms  that  held  her  were  strong  and  reassur 
ing.  If  there  had  been  anything  in  that  woodland 
interview  which  had  been  unwelcome  at  the  time, 
that  drifting  scent  of  sweetgum  failed  to  conjure  it 
up  with  the  rest,  and  only  the  charm  of  the  episode 
remained. 

But  it  had  had  its  sequel,  and  the  sequel  didn't 
turn  out  happily.  Not  even  her  sensitive  imagina 
tion  had  adequately  pictured  Aunt  Millie's  wrath 
at  her  over-late  home-coming.  She  had  hoped  des 
perately  that  the  old  woman  would  not  find  out 
where  she  had  spent  the  morning,  but  hope  had  be 
trayed  her.  Babe  had  asked  at  the  supper  table 
whom  it  was  she  was  riding  to  the  falls  with  that 
noon,  and  she  had  been  forced  to  answer  with  the 
name  of  the  distrusted  stranger.  The  girl  turned 
cold  now  as  she  recalled  the  effect  of  her  words. 
Bud  had  deliberately  laid  down  the  knife  with  which 
he  had  been  shovelling  in  his  food  and  looked  at  her 
so  long  and  so  searchingly  that  she  had  risen  pre 
cipitately  and  taken  refuge  in  her  own  room  where 
only  the  tones  of  Aunt  Millie's  high-pitched,  angry 
voice  could  follow. 


42  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Suddenly  the  children  opened  full  cry  at  sight  of 
home,  and  Mary  Elizabeth  came  out  of  her  bitter 
reminiscences,  back  to  the  more  cheerful  present. 

Judged  by  outward  appearances,  the  Thaggin 
home  was  a  pleasant  enough  place  to  visit.  They 
had  arrived  at  the  bars  now,  and  the  children  were 
lowering  them  for  the  teacher  to  pass  in.  What 
would  have  been  a  lawn  of  blue-grass  in  another  stage 
of  civilization,  was  here  a  stretch  of  ripened  corn  and 
pumpkins  and  cow-peas,  but  the  prospect  was  not 
unpleasing. 

The  promise  of  plenty  lent  a  certain  homely  beauty 
of  its  own  to  the  surroundings,  and  a  fresh  coat  of 
whitewash  on  the  big  double  log  cabin  differen 
tiated  it  from  the  typical  dwelling  of  those  parts 
and  made  it  stand  out  in  almost  manorial  dignity. 

If  the  girl  had  been  the  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin, 
she  might  have  been  prepared  for  the  sudden  irrup 
tion  of  tow-headed  youngsters  which  broke  out  all 
over  the  place  in  celebration  of  her  advent;  but  as 
it  was,  she  was  fairly  taken  aback  as  some  seven  or 
eight  she  had  never  before  laid  eyes  on  appeared  on 
the  scene,  calling  variously  to  each  other: 

"Run  here,  Ginny,  run!" 

"Here's  de  teacher!" 

"That's  her,  see  her?" 

In  the  tone  of  one  calling  off  the  dogs,  a  woman's 
voice  silenced  the  bedlam,  and  the  next  minute  a 
large,  gingham-clad,  uncorseted  woman  filled  the 
door-way. 

"Come  in,  miss,  come  in,"  she  said   cordially. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  43 

"You'uns  is  the  teacher,  ain't  you?  Wa-al,  I'm 
Mis'  Thaggin." 

"  Yes,  I'm  Miss  Dale,  but  I  want  to  see  Mrs.  Thag 
gin,  please.  May  I?" 

"That's  me.  I'm  her."  Whereon  Mary  Eliza 
beth  was  fain  to  accept  the  fact  that  the  ample  lady 
before  her  was  the  mother  of  this  large  and  enter 
prising  family  of  children,  and  not  the  virgin  soul 
her  mispronunciation  of  her  own  title  would  seem 
to  indicate.  Mary  Elizabeth  recalled  the  stupid, 
ineffectual  creature  she  had  seen  seated  on  Uncle 
Beck's  molasses  barrel,  and  wondered  and  shud 
dered  that  such  a  man  should  be  the  father  of 
children. 

The  room  into  which  she  was  ushered  was  freshly 
whitewashed  inside,  and  the  rough  board  floor  was 
clean.  The  two  ample  bedsteads,  in  opposite  cor 
ners,  were  provided  with  immense  feather  mat 
tresses  which  had  been  beaten  to  a  stiff  froth,  and 
which  now  bellied  out  under  flaming  bed-quilts  of 
the  basket  and  rising-sun  patterns.  From  the  pil 
lows  "Good-night"  and  "Good-morning"  greeted 
the  visitor  in  tones  of  turkey-red. 

A  hollow  cough  from  the  chimney-side  insinuated 
a  discord  into  the  healthful  harmony,  and  Mary 
Elizabeth's  attention  was  attracted  to  a  slight  wraith 
of  a  woman  who  lay  back  limply  in  a  homespun- 
covered  barrel  chair,  but  who  kept  a  pair  of  pierc 
ingly  bright  eyes  fixed  inquiringly  on  her. 

"That's  Shan's  ma;  she's  got  the  consumption," 
said  the  one  who  had  invited  her  in;  and  as  the 
girl  went  over  to  the  sick  woman  and  extended  her 


44          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

hand  kindly,  the  hostess  added:  "Ma,  this  is  the 
chillun's  teacher." 

Instantly  the  old  face  hardened.  "Who?  Her 
that  was ?" 

"Hush,  ma!  What  you  want  to  be  rakin'  up  old 
trouble  for?  "  She  shut  up  the  old  woman  as  effect 
ually  as  if  she  had  slapped  her  in  the  mouth,  and 
proceeded  to  dust  with  her  apron  a  chair  for  the 
visitor,  while  she  asked:  "How  you  an'  the  chillun 
gittin'  on?" 

It  was  the  cue  Mary  Elizabeth  wanted,  and  with 
only  a  fleeting  wonder  at  the  sick  woman's  porten 
tous,  if  half-expressed,  question,  she  turned  to  the 
other.  It  was  no  easy  matter  to  perform  the  mission 
on  which  she  had  come,  but  it  was  one  way  of  keep 
ing  faith  with  the  grave-eyed  memory  that  was  now 
almost  ever-present  with  her,  and  Mary  Elizabeth 
went  straight  to  the  duty  she  saw  before  her.  She 
delivered  a  round,  unvarnished  tale  of  the  various 
shortcomings  of  the  various  young  Thaggins,  and 
then  outlined  her  hopes  for  them  and  her  need  of 
parental  help. 

The  mother  of  the  children  felt  the  sincerity  of 
the  story  and  followed  it  with  a  mother's  apprehen 
sions  and  a  mother's  hopes. 

"I  want  'em  to  do  right,  Miss  Dale,"  she  said 
when  Mary  Elizabeth  had  finished.  "I  can't  make 
out  what  makes  'em  so  pesky — whether  hit's  jes 
nach'1-born  meanness  or  worms,  but  I'll  wear  'em 
all  to  a  frazzle  to-night  an'  give  'em  a  copperas  pill 
apiece,  an' " 

"They're  very  good  chillun,  considerin1 — "    The 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  45 

old  woman  stopped,  but  whether  in  apprehension  of 
another  extinguishing  "hush,"  or  whether  she  had 
finished  her  sentence,  Mary  Elizabeth  was  left  to 
guess. 

"You,  Tony!  what  you  doin'  to  that  thar  cat?" 
the  mother  suddenly  interjected  as  a  feline  screech 
came  from  the  back  porch. 

"I'm  turnin'  her  a-loose,  ma!" 

"Wa-al,  stop  it  this  minute!"  she  bawled,  from 
sheer  force  of  habit.  In  looking  away  to  hide  a 
smile,  Mary  Elizabeth  glanced  out  of  the  window  to 
where  a  bright-faced  girl  was  ploughing  a  nearby  patch. 

"Who  is  that  pretty  girl  out  yonder?"  she  queried, 
turning  quickly  to  Mrs.  Thaggin. 

"That's  my  Sue,  ma'am.  She's  the  oldes'  an' 
likelies'  one  o'  the  lot." 

The  teacher  was  interested  at  once.  "  Why  don't 
you  send  her  to  school,  Mrs.  Thaggin?" 

"Why,  she's  been  to  school." 

"When?" 

"Sue  went  six  weeks  this  summer.  That  was 
before  you  come." 

"Oh,  yes,  but  six  weeks  is  only  a  beginning.  She 
needs  more." 

"Sue's  a  very  smart  gal,  considerinV  This  time 
there  was  a  plain  period  after  the  "considerin'." 

But  the  younger  woman  was  again  speaking: 

"Why,  I  couldn't  spare  Sue  in  the  fall,  ma'am; 
she's  the  best  field-hand  on  the  place.  That's  the 
trouble  'bout  this  new-fangled  law,  miss.  As  long  as 
we  had  jes  a  six- weeks  school  in  summer  hit  didn't 


46  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

pester  nobody,  an'  we  didn't  mind  lettin'  the  chil- 
lun  go.  But  seven  months  a-settin'  'round  in  a 
school-house  doin'  nothin'  is  jes  ruination." 

"A-1'arnin'  that  the  world  turns  round  ever'  day, 
— an'  that  thar  lot  gate  a-facin'  the  north  for  forty 
year !" 

"Hush,  ma,  now  who  said  anything  about  the  lot 
gate?  You  air  the  beat'nes — "  but  such  a  violent 
fit  of  coughing  from  the  invalid  set  in,  that  the 
daughter-in-law  was  fain  to  leave  her  arraignment 
unfinished. 

"What  do  you  do  for  her?"  asked  the  teacher,  in 
genuine  sympathy. 

"Nothin',  miss;  they  ain't  nothin'  to  do  for  her. 
She's  jes  perishin'  away.  Shan  throwed  away  a  lot 
o'  money  buyin'  physic  till  the  doctor  told  him  she 
couldn't  git  well;  an'  then  he  seen  hit  were  a  pure 
waste  an'  stopped  hit." 

Mary  Elizabeth  caught  her  breath  at  the  primi 
tive,  brutal  philosophy,  but  she  forced  her  voice  to 
be  even  as  she  asked: 

"Yes,  but  doesn't  it  relieve  her  suffering  some?" 

"Hit  sho'  do,  miss," — from  the  invalid — "Dr. 
Beach's  Consumption  Kyore." 

"Hush,  ma,  hit  didn't  do  nothin'  but  make  your 
coughin'  easier!  Shan  ain't  got  money  to  burn." 

Mary  Elizabeth  got  up  deliberately  and  walked 
to  the  mantel-shelf.  From  among  countless  small 
tools,  out-of-date  calendars,  medicine  phials,  and 
the  like,  she  singled  out  an  empty  bottle  labeled, 
"Dr.  Beach's  Consumption  Cure." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  47 

"Is  this  what  helps  you?"  she  asked  directly  of 
the  invalid.  The  old  creature  was  coughing  again, 
but  there  was  a  ray  of  hope  in  her  submerged  black 
eyes  and  she  nodded  affirmatively  though  her  frame 
shook.  "I'll  take  this  with  me  for  the  name,  and 
get  you  some  more,"  said  the  girl,  gently. 

"La,  miss — "  the  younger  woman  was  objecting 
querulously,  when  she  was  suddenly  quieted  with: 

"For  God's  sake  let  her!"  The  next  moment  the 
hungry  black  eyes  were  searching  the  girl's  face 
again,  distrustful,  yet  hoping  desperately,  too. 

"Hit  do  be  ra-al  generous  of  you,  miss " 

A  chord  deep  down  in  the  girl's  nature  somewhere 
snapped.  "It  is  not  I  who  am  generous,"  she  said. 
"A  man — a  very  good  man — 'way  off  from  here 
will  pay  for  it;  he  has  already  paid."  She  said 
good-by  hastily,  and  would  have  hurried  on  her 
journey,  but  the  younger  Mrs.  Thaggin  followed 
her  out,  ostensibly  to  let  down  the  bars,  but  really 
to  get  in  a  little  more  chat  before  letting  the  visitor 
escape  her. 

"Have  you'uns  heerd  any  talk  over  to  Mis' 
Davis' s  about  that  thar  strange  young  man  what's 
took  up  at  the  ha'nted  house?"  she  queried. 

"Why,  yes,  some,"  replied  the  girl  while  her  pulse 
quickened;  "but  they  don't  seem  to  know  anything 
about  him,  for  certain." 

"No,  an'  nobody  don't;  but  Shan  'lowed  they 
was  gittin'  onto  him,  he  thought.  Do  you  know," 
and  she  lowered  her  voice  to  the  tone  of  confidence, 
"the  men  hereabouts  thinks  he's  a  counterfeiter!" 


48  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Mary  Elizabeth's  heart  gave  a  great  bound  and 
then  stood  still  a  moment,  till  the  other  added — 
"Yes,  ma'am,  Shan  heerd  him  with  his  own  years 
a-tellin'  that  man  of  his'n  that  he  could  coin  money 
here  hand-over-fist." 

The  life  swept  back  into  the  girl's  face,  and  she 
opened  her  lips  to  say  that  she  knew  the  man  and 
that  he  was  all  right,  when  her  fatal  honesty  stopped 
her.  In  point  of  fact,  she  did  not  know  anything 
about  him.  Then  a  curious,  sickening  doubt  of  him 
insinuated  itself  into  her  consciousness,  and  to  es 
cape  the  pain  of  it,  she  said  irrelevantly: 

"There  are  only  about  a  half-dozen  families  living 
here,  aren't  there?" 

"Yes,  miss,  hit  ain't  what  hit  uster  be.  Onct 
nearly  the  whole  valley  were  took  up  with  farms; 
but  lately — in  the  last  ten  year  or  so — most  of  the 
neighbors  here  have  sold  out  to  strangers." 

"Well,  if  the  strangers  make  good  neighbors " 

"They  haven't  none  of  'em  showed  up  in  these 
parts  at  all  after  buyin',  miss. — None  but  that  one 
at  Silas's.  An'  ef  they're  all  like  him,  hit's  the  Lord's 
mercy  they  don't  come." 

Mary  Elizabeth  turned  to  go,  but  she  hesitated 
a  moment,  and  then  came  back  a  step  or  two. 
"Mrs.  Thaggin,"  she  said,  "I'm  going  to  come 
around  again  and  talk  to  you  about  Sue,  may  I?" 
— The  misty  evening  took  on  a  grave  and  thought 
ful  look. 

"Why,  yes,  miss,  come  whenever  you  kin,"  re 
plied  her  hostess,  hospitably. 


CHAPTER  IV 

WHILE  Mary  Elizabeth  and  the  wife  of  Shan 
Thaggin  talked  together  about  the  stranger  in  the 
graying  afternoon,  the  subject  of  their  conversation 
dismounted  from  his  horse  at  the  cross-roads  store, 
and,  hunting-dog  at  heel,  entered  its  hospitable 
portal. 

The  place  was  quiet,  almost  deserted,  for  Mon 
day  afternoon  was  no  time  for  farmers  to  loaf.  The 
stable-boy  clerk  was  fulfilling  the  first  of  his  offices 
out  in  the  tin-can  district  at  the  back  of  the  store. 
Only  Uncle  Beck  remained  to  tell  the  story,  and  he 
was  plainly  nodding  over  the  latest  edition  of  "  Hos- 
tetter's  Almanac." 

When  John  Marshall  and  his  magnificent  pointer 
came  in  out  of  the  crisping  evening  to  share  the 
warmth  of  the  little  rusty  stove,  mine  host  at  once 
roused  himself  to  the  duties  of  his  position.  The 
proffer  of  the  surest-legged  chair,  a  vigorous  punch 
ing  down  of  ashes,  and  the  right  of  way  through  a 
large  plug  of  tobacco  at  once  showed  that  he  was 
thoroughly  awake  and  on  his  job. 

Both  chair  and  tobacco  were  declined,  however, 
and  the  stranger  stood  leisurely  by  the  counter  while 
he  traded  for  some  half-dozen  articles  in  which  he 
evinced  strangely  little  interest.  Nevertheless,  he 
talked  pleasantly  enough  about  the  weather,  the 
prospects  for  a  cold  winter,  and  about  the  neighbor- 

49 


50          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

hood  in  general,  saying  some  kindly  things  about 
some  of  the  people  whom  he  had  met  here.  It 
seemed  perfectly  natural,  after  his  desultory  buying 
was  finished,  that  he  and  Uncle  Beck  should  pull 
up  chairs  to  the  glowing  stove  and  drift  into  a  little 
neighborly  gossip. 

"A  lot  of  waste  land  about  here,"  the  stranger 
ventured,  after  he  had  duly  asked  about  the  con 
dition  of  the  store-keeper's  crops;  "I  wonder  you 
don't  get  rid  of  some  of  it." 

"Wa-al,  land  ain't  apt  to  run  off  nowhar,  an'  hit 
don't  git  in  nobody's  way,  so  to  speak,"  answered 
the  native. 

"Yes,  but  money  is  right  handy  sometimes," 
replied  the  stranger,  "and  maybe  a  little  more  of 
that  and  a  little  less  land  would  be  right  good  for 
some  of  you.  Now  I,  for  instance-,"  and  he  drew 
his  chair  a  trifle  nearer  that  of  his  listener,  "I,  for 
instance,  happen  to  have  a  little  more  money  than 
I  have  any  immediate  use  for,  and  to  be  really  in 
need  of  some  good  mountain  land.  I  would  take  it 
as  a  neighborly  act  if  you  would  help  me  get  some 
good  acreage  here  for  a  fair  price.  Do  you  happen 
to  know  of  any  for  sale,  or  any  that  the  owner  might 
be  induced  to  sell  if  a  fair  offer  were  made  for  it?  " 

"You  can  have  anything  I  got,  for  the  money." 

"This  building,  for  instance?" 

"Wa-al,  no.  This  here  store  ra-ally  belongs  to 
Trav  Williams.  I'm  jes  rentin'  from  him.  But 
I've  got  a  farm  over  the  ridge  thar  what's  the  best 
corn  land  on  the  mountains " 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE   STRONGEST  51 

I 

" '  Over  the  ridge '  ?  "  quoted  the  stranger.  ' '  Well, 
I'm  more  taken  with  the  property  here  in  the  val 
ley.  I  don't  believe  I  care  for  that  that  lies  out 
side." 

"Wa-al,  that  place  what  you  air  livin'  on " 

"Yes?"  said  the  stranger,  and  he  leaned  forward 
slightly. 

"Oh — nothin' — nothin',"  the  old  man  replied,  as 
if  he  had  suddenly  changed  his  mind  about  something, 
and  he  addressed  himself  to  punching  down  the 
ashes  again. 

"What  about  it?"  the  stranger's  even  voice  in 
sisted. 

"Why,  the  owner  ain't  thinkin'  o'  sellin'  it.  Be 
sides,  nothin'  good  ain't  never  comin'  outen  that 
place." 

For  some  reason  the  native  did  not  follow  the 
subject  further,  and  a  few  moments  of  silence  en 
sued  between  the  two;  then  Uncle  Beck  said,  ques- 
tioningly: 

"You  seem  to  be  doin'  your  own  tradin'  these  days. 
Your  man  with  the  swell  red  tie  ain't  been  in  to  see 
us  of  late." 

"No,"  replied  the  other,  "he  was  a  quarrelsome 
fellow  and  I  didn't  like  his  attitude  toward  my  neigh 
bors  here,  so  I  let  him  go.  But  how  did  you  know 
he  was  my  man?" 

"I  seen  him  with  him  several  times,"  he  nodded 
toward  the  pointer  which  had  approached  and  now 
stood  looking  worshipfully  up  into  his  master's  eyes. 

"Yes,  I  didn't  like  the  association,"  the  visitor 


52  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

said,  whimsically,  as  he  gently  pulled  the  long  brown 
ears  of  the  pointer.  "Lightfoot  is  a  gentleman," 
he  continued,  patting  the  subject  of  his  encomium 
on  the  head,  "  and  I  don't  like  him  to  have  any  such 
companions." 

"You  call  him  'Lightfoot'?" 

"You  just  ought  to  see  him  at  work!" 

"He's  got  fine  eyes,  stranger." 

"Yes,  yes,  he  has  that!  •  A  friend  of  mine  painted 
him." 

"Wa-al,  by  gum!  What  did  you  let  him  do  him 
that  a-way  for?  The  man  ain't  livin'  what  could 
play  a  mean  trick  on  my  Sloucher,  an'  he's  jes  one 
o'  these  cur  dogs  at  that." 

"Oh,  I  mean  he  painted  a  picture  to  look  like  him. 
No,  indeed,  the  man  that  interferes  with  Lightfoot 
will  have  two  of  us  to  lick,  won't  he,  boy?"  The 
splendid  creature  seemed  to  understand  and  to  agree 
to  the  compact,  for  he  pushed  yet  closer  and  laid 
his  head  on  his  master's  knee. 

"I  like  to  see  a  fellow  that  can  look  you  in  the  eye 
like  this — "  the  stranger  spoke  reflectively  as  if  he 
were  thinking  beyond  his  hearer.  "That  picture- 
painting  fellow  says  that  there  is  bound  to  be  some 
thing  wonderfully  good  in  store  for  Lightfoot  in  his 
next  existence — that  there  will  have  to  be  made  up 
to  him  then  what  his  limitations  have  denied  him 
in  this." 

"Stranger,  that  sounds  like  Ma'y  'Lizbeth." 

"May  who?  Oh,  you  mean  the  little  teacher — 
yes — what  about  her?" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  53 

"Why,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  she's  got  that  notion  'bout 
things  bein'  'made  up'  to  us,  proned  into  her  good 
and  strong.  Hit  wan't  two  days  ago  that  she  got 
ra-al  worked  up  a-talkin'  to  me  'bout  Jake  Wind- 
ham's  peg-leg  an'  a-sayin'  that  when  we  was  denied 
blessin's  here,  we'd  git  jes  that  much  more  after  we 
was  dead  an'  gone."  The  stranger  was  looking  di 
rectly  at  him  as  he  spoke — "An'  I  up  an'  told  her," 
continued  the  store-keeper,  enjoying  his  new  audi 
ence,  "  that  I  didn't  in  no  wise  b'lieve  what  she  was 
a-tellin'  me.  Wa-al,  at  that  she  got  kinder  hurtlike, 
an'  said  she  wouldn't  a'  b'lieved  hit  o'  me — for  all 
the  world  like  I  had  been  stealin'  hogs!  An'  she  up 
an'  ast  me  ef  I  didn't  b'lieve  we  was  goin'  to  have 
our  blessin's  multiplied  in  heaven."  The  narrator 
took  his  own  time  in  the  telling  and  chuckled  de 
liberately  as  he  progressed.  "  An'  then  I  explained 
to  her  that  I  didn't  see  how  Jake  could  find  a  use 
for  three  legs,  even  in  heaven — but  Lord,  stranger, 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth  couldn't  see  a  joke  with  one  o'  them 
surveyin'  spy-glasses."  He  was  tilted  back  in  his 
chair  laughing  quizzically  at  his  own  wit  and  heartily 
enjoying  having  the  stranger  laugh  with  him.  The 
mutual  appreciation  of  the  little  touch  of  humor 
swept  away  the  cloud  of  constraint  and  reserve  that 
had  hitherto  hovered  between  them  and  the  two 
men  suddenly  found  themselves  on  a  new  footing. 

"We  mustn't  expect  too  much  of  women,"  said 
the  stranger  after  his  hearty  laugh  had  subsided. 
Then  he  continued,  as  if  a  new  thought  had  struck 
him:  "Speaking  of  surveyors,  Mr.  Logan,  it  seems 


54  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

that  you  people  out  here  don't  like  them.  I  heard 
that  this  man,  Williams,  chased  a  party  of  them  off 
his  land  with  a  gun  the  other  day." 

"That's  the  word  that's  been  goin'  about,  stran 
ger,  an'  I  wouldn't  be  surprised  ef  hit  was  true. 
Trav  ain't  the  man  to  take  nothin'  off'n  nobody, 
you  know." 

"But  you  see,"  broke  in  the  other,  "it  is  a  sort 
of  unwritten  law  of  progress  that  surveyors  may  go 
on  any  man's  land." 

"Hit  may  be  a  law  of  progress,  mister,  but  hit 
ain't  Trav's  law;  an' — "  here  he  gave  a  shrewd  look 
at  the  other  under  his  heavy  brows — "an'  ef  you 
happen  to  have  any  interest  in  them  surveyors — 
say  friendly  interest,  bein'  all  strangers  here  alike 
—I'd  advise  'em  agin  another  move  in  that  direc 
tion.  You  kin  even  tell  'em  that  a  certain  simple- 
minded  old  store-keeper  says  that  hit  don't  make  so 
much  diff'rence  'bout  breakin'  '  laws  of  progress '  an' 
even  state  laws  in  these  parts,  but  hit  wouldn't  be 
healthy  for  'em  to  disregard  none  o'  Trav  Williams's 
rules  an'  regulations." 

"But  will  your  public  opinion  support  any  such 
dogged  narrowness  as  that?"  He  either  did  not 
catch  or  purposely  disregarded  the  other's  covert 
suggestion. 

"We'uns  air  all  hill-Billies  together,  stranger." 

"  But  don't  your  people  want  development?  Don't 
they  want  railroads  to  come  into  this  section,  and 
towns  to  be  built  here?  Don't  they  want  to  see 
factories  put  up ?" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  55 

"Wa-al,  I  ain't  heerd  none  of  'em  expressin'  no 
sich  wants,  stranger.  Some  of  us  wouldn't  know 
what  to  do  with  a  town  ef  we  had  one,  an'  as  for 
railroads — why  even  a  peg-leg  will  take  a  hill-Billy 
as  far  from  home  as  he's  got  any  business  a-goin'; 
leastways,  that's  the  way  most  of  'em  looks  at  it." 

"Well,  you  wouldn't  mind  telling  me  how  you 
happen  to  know  that  they  feel  this  way,  would  you?  " 

"Change  your  mind  an'  take  a  chaw,  mister — 
you  won't?  Wa-al,  ever'  man  to  his  likens — that's 
our  creed  here.  Now  as  to  how  I  know,  stranger, 
I  wasn't  caught  outen  the  woods  for  nothin',  you 
know.  Sixty-nine  year  is  a  long  enough  time  to 
git  one  notion  sot  in  your  head,  you  see.  Besides 
that,  I've  seen  'em  tried.  Thar've  been  strangers 
here  before  your  time,  mister,  astin'  these  self-same 
questions.  Thar've  been  other  men  a-lookin'  for 
much-needed  lands — valley  lands  preferred — an' 
they,  too,  had  more  money  than  was  quite  comfort 
able  to  keep." 

"And  your  people  went  up  outrageously  on  the 
price  of  their  lands,  and  then  refused  to  sell.  Didn't 
they?" 

"Why,  who's  been  a-tellin'  you?" 

"Nobody,  but  I've  traded  for  lands  in  hill  dis 
tricts  myself." 

"Oh,  you  have?  Wa-al,  you  ain't  quite  right 
'bout  this  little  siterwation  here.  A  lot  of  our  people 
did  sell  some  years  ago,  and  moved  over  in  Walker. 
We  heerd  a  lot  o'  talk  then  'bout  how  prosp'rous  this 
region  was  a-goin'  to  be  ef  we  would  all  only  give 


56  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

up  an'  move  off  n  the  face  o'  creation.  Wa-al,  some 
of  us  wouldn't  move.  We  thought  that  ef  thar  was 
a  good  thing  a-comin'  this  way  we'd  like  to  be  on  the 
spot  to  welcome  hit.  That  was  nearly  ten  year  ago, 
stranger,  an'  prosperity  ain't  showed  up  in  these 
diggin's  yit.  A  lot  o'  our  neighbors  air  gone,  but 
their  lands  haven't  never  been  in  noways  improved, 
an'  the  pine  thickets  air  takin'  the  valley,  except 
for  the  few  spots  that  a  half-dozen  of  us  helt  onto 
agin  the  comin'  o'  progress." 

The  stranger  seemed  politely  attentive,  so  he  con 
tinued:  "Hit  might  interest  you  to  know  that  I've 
had  three  offers  for  this  property  of  Trav's  here  in  the 
last  five  year,  an'  ever'  time  money  was  no  consid 
eration.  Ever'  time,  too" — here  he  looked  directly 
into  the  unflinching  eyes  of  the  stranger — "I've 
offered  to  sell  'em  my  own  place  jest  over  the  ridge 
thar,  an'  ever'  time  hit  didn't  seem  to  exactly  suit." 

"Well,  it  might  interest  you  to  know,  Mr.  Logan, 
that  your  experience  with  your  property  about  here 
isn't  at  all  unusual  at  this  day  and  time.  There  is 
a  wave  of  progress  sweeping  over  Alabama  that  is 
reaching  to  the  most  remote  portions  of  it,  and  your 
people  need  not  suspect  anything  sinister  just  be 
cause  they  are  beginning  to  feel  the  influence  of  the 
general  industrial  upheaval."  At  that  moment  a 
booted  and  spurred  mountaineer  came  rattling  in 
for  some  farm  supplies,  and  the  stranger  rose  to  go. 
"I  should  like  to  talk  further  with  you  about  this 
matter,  some  time,  Mr.  Logan,"  he  said,  holding  out 
his  hand  in  a  winningly  friendly  manner.  "And, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  57 

say,  if  the  little  school-teacher  holds  out  in  her  de 
termination  to  give  Windham  an  extra  underpinning 
in  the  next  world,  I  believe  I  wouldn't  interfere. 
You  have  to  humor  women  and  children,  you  know." 
The  flattering  reference  to  his  pet  joke,  and  the  warm 
handshake,  brought  out  the  invitation  from  the 
store-keeper: 

"  Drap  aroun'  to  see  me  agin,  Mr.  Marshall.     I  like 
to  talk  to  you,  sir,  I  like  to  talk  to  you." 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  was  afternoon  recess  time  of  the  next  day,  and 
Mary  Elizabeth  had  been  called  down  to  the  school 
spring  to  avert  a  tragedy — "Billy  Williams  was  going 
to  kill  the  spring  lizard,"  was  the  exciting  message 
brought  her. 

Mary  Elizabeth  knew  the  terrible  portent  of  such 
a  deed,  for  her  own  childhood  was  not  too  remote 
for  her  to  remember  that  in  each  spring  there  dwells 
a  sort  of  aquatic  genius  in  the  shape  of  a  two-legged 
lizard,  to  kill  which  were  to  cause  the  drying  up  of 
the  spring  itself. 

The  young  teacher  reached  the  damp,  shady  dell 
in  time  to  save  the  patron  lizard  and  the  permanent 
flow  of  the  water.  She  was  wise  enough  not  to 
smile,  however,  as  she  stopped  the  threatened  van 
dalism  and  dispersed  the  quarrelling  children  who, 
shortly  called  away  by  another  attraction,  soon  left 
her  to  herself  in  the  cool  shadows. 

After  a  minute  or  two  she  began  to  be  glad  that 
she  had  come.  Half  of  the  recess  time  was  yet  un 
spent,  and  this  looked  like  an  ideal  place  in  which 
to  regain  a  composure  that  had  suffered  a  most 
unusual  impairment  that  morning. 

She  had  just  preempted  a  good  resting-place  on  a 
big  flat  lime  rock,  however,  when  the  soothing  quiet 
was  broken  in  upon  by  the  sound  of  heavy  steps. 
Sure  that  the  ominous  tread  on  the  path  behind  her 

58 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  59 

was  that  of  a  detested  visitor  who  had  been  at  the 
school  all  morning,  the  girl  looked  steadily  in  front 
of  her  till  some  one  actually  sat  down  beside  her,  and 
said,  in  a  voice  that  she  had  come  to  listen  for: 

"A  penny  for  your  thoughts." 

John  Marshall  was  treated  to  a  rare  smile  that 
vanished  almost  as  quickly  as  it  came,  and  the  girl 
answered: 

"I  was  thinking  how  much  I  should  like  to  kill 
the  county  superintendent  of  education." 

"  My !  But  what  a  little  savage  it  is ! "  Her  hand 
was  resting  on  the  rock  beside  her,  and  he  laid  his 
own  down  upon  it.  A  swift,  startled  look  from  the 
girl  met  an  innocent,  unsuspecting  expression  in  his 
eyes.  Mary  Elizabeth's  own  glance  floundered — 
clearly  he  didn't  realize  his  mistake,  and  she  hated 
to  call  his  attention  to  it.  His  thoughts  were  so  far 
away,  however,  that  it  became  plain  she  would  have 
to,  so  she  drew  her  hand  away  while  a  red  glow 
mounted  her  pale  cheek.  "You — you — didn't  no 
tice." 

"Was  that  your  hand?" 

"Yes,  you — a — inadvertently " 

"Oh,  I  beg  ten  thousand  pardons.  I'm  such  an 
absent-minded  idiot!  Won't  you  forgive  me?" 

Mary  Elizabeth  accepted  his  apologetic  explana 
tion  with  a  sweet  dignity,  and  soon  they  were  talk 
ing  of  other  things. 

"You  want  to  kill  the  county  superintendent  of 
education,"  he  reminded  her;  "wouldn't  you  better 
let  me  do  it  for  you?" 


60          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"No,  indeed!  I  want  the  exquisite  pleasure  my 
self." 

"All  of  which  is  perfectly  natural,  considering  the 
enormity  of  his  offence — by  the  way,  what  is  his 
offence?" 

"He's  visiting  the  school  to-day." 

"Capital!" 

Mary  Elizabeth  looked  at  him  with  half-suspi 
cion,  and  then  continued :  "He's  a  big,  puffed-up  igno 
ramus  that  rides  around  the  country  pretending  to 
superintend  the  county  schools  when  he  hardly 
knows  how  to  read  and  write.  He  has  criticised 
every  single  thing  I  have  done  to-day" — her  lis 
tener's  countenance  took  on  a  genuine  sympathy, 
and  the  girl  continued — "I  had  a  copy  of  the  Sistine 
Madonna  and  several  illuminated  mottoes  on  the 
wall,  and  he  took  them  all  down  and  said  I  was 
teaching  the  children  to  worship  idols.  When  I 
asked  him  to  use  his  influence  toward  getting  the 
trustees  to  have  the  cracks  in  the  wall  stopped  and 
glass  put  hi  the  window  so  that  the  cold  wind 
wouldn't  come  through,  he  said  I  was  'pampering' 
the  children." 

The  sound  of  a  vigorously  rung  bell  brought  the 
girl  to  her  feet  instantly.  "There!"  she  exclaimed, 
"recess  is  over,  and  Tony  is  ringing  the  bell."  She 
bade  the  stranger  a  quick  good-by  and  hurried  up 
the  path  to  the  school-house  only  to  find,  on  her  ar 
rival  at  the  door,  that  he  had  followed  close  behind. 

"I  came  to  hold  him  for  you  while  you  killed 
him,"  he  explained. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  61 

The  children  had  crowded  into  the  school-room 
and  were  noisily  disposing  themselves  on  the  rough 
pine  benches. 

"Where's  the  victim?"  inquired  Marshall,  putting 
his  head  in  the  door  and  looking  about  vainly  for 
something  that  would  answer  to  the  description 
given  him  by  the  indignant  little  teacher. 

"Yonder  he  comes  now,"  she  said. 

Marshall  turned.  A  greasy,  rusty,  but  pompous- 
looking  individual  was  approaching  with  as  much 
dignity  as  excessive  rotundity  would  allow. 

As  Mary  Elizabeth  presented  the  school  official 
to  the  immaculately  dressed  stranger  a  look  which 
plainly  spelled  mortification  clouded  her  earnest 
eyes. 

"Never  mind,"  whispered  the  stranger,  as  the 
two  dropped  respectfully  behind  the  county  super 
intendent  and  entered  the  school-house  in  his  wake, 
"as  a  corpse  he'll  scrub  up  nicely." 

The  girl  took  her  stand  behind  the  pine  table  that 
answered  as  teacher's  desk,  and  tremblingly  brought 
the  room  to  order. 

The  superintendent  had  ensconced  himself  in  the 
only  chair  in  the  room,  so  Marshall  found  himself  a 
place  on  the  end  of  a  little  side  bench  near  the  teach 
er's  desk.  From  this  coign  of  vantage  his  drag-net 
glance  swept  the  scene  and  gathered  in  even  the 
smallest  details.  It  was  a  big  room,  the  cracks  be 
tween  the  logs  of  which  had  never  been  thoroughly 
chinked.  The  floor  was  rough  and  uneven,  and  rot 
ting  away  in  places.  The  one  window  was  a  sawed- 


62  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

out  place  in  the  logs,  unglazed  and  with  only  a  rough 
board  blind  to  shut  out  the  blasts  of  winter.  The 
only  arrangement  for  heating  the  room  was  a  huge 
black  fireplace  in  a  mud  chimney  at  the  far  end. 
There  were  no  desks,  and  the  children  sat  side  by 
side  on  rough  pine  benches.  Marshall  counted 
them — twenty-seven  gaunt,  blue-legged  chickens  of 
the  human  breed  they  were — but  they  were  unin 
teresting,  so  he  turned  his  wandering  gaze  to  the 
teacher  agaiil. 

By  this  time  the  girl  had  herself  and  her  charges 
in  hand.  The  majority  of  the  children  were  put 
to  studying,  and  a  class  was  called.  It  was  the  first 
class  in  geography — the  first,  last,  and  only  class 
in  geography.  Mary  Elizabeth's  spirits  rose.  The 
lesson  consisted  of  map  questions,  and  both  teacher 
and  pupils  were  especially  good  on  map  questions. 
The  subject  was  South  America,  but  that  didn't  spell 
anything.  The  submerged  Atlantis  or  the  Kingdom 
of  Heaven  would  have  done  just  as  well  as  long  as 
the  questions  were  there  in  black  and  white  and  the 
answering  map  was  clear  and  definite  in  outline 
and  unencumbered  by  any  complicating  suggestions 
of  the  real  thing. 

There  was  "head  and  foot"  to  the  class.  Accord 
ing  to  custom,  the  teacher  propounded  a  few  ques 
tions  in  review  of  the  previous  week's  work  before  be 
ginning  the  lesson  of  the  day.  Five  of  these  were 
eagerly  picked  off  by  the  most  pushing,  the  last  one 
of  whom  had  duly  nominated  Washington  as  the  cap 
ital  of  the  United  States,  when — there  really  wasn't 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  63 

any  help  for  it,  if  a  teacher  wanted  to  be  honest — 
Tony  Thaggin's  time  came. 

"And  where  is  Washington,  Tony?"  Surely  he 
couldn't  miss  it! 

"Dead,"  Tony  answered,  and  there  was  a  finality 
in  his  tone  that  plainly  indicated  he  didn't  intend 
to  pursue  his  subject  any  further. 

There  was  a  dazed  look  in  the  boy's  eyes  as  the 
next  chap  below  disputed  his  statement,  claiming 
that  Washington  was  still  cumbering  the  ground  to 
the  extent  of  a  goodly  number  of  square  miles  some 
where  between  Maryland  and  Virginia.  Tony  went 
down  sullenly.  He  was  next  to  foot  again.  If  he 
heard  his  teacher's  rather  impatient  explanation, 
he  appeared  not  to  comprehend  it. 

The  county  superintendent  seemed  to  see  an  op 
portunity  here,  and  broke  in  with  a  long-winded  dis 
quisition  on  Washington  that  seemed  to  pivot  on  cer 
tain  annual  packages  of  seeds  from  the  Department 
of  Agriculture.  Mary  Elizabeth  and  the  stranger 
looked  at  each  other.  There  was  desperation  in  the 
eyes  of  one,  and  cynical  amusement  in  the  laugh 
ing  glance  that  answered.  When  the  superintendent 
had  delivered  himself  of  a  climacteric  burst  of  patriot 
ism,  Mary  Elizabeth  took  up  the  map  questions  on 
South  America,  and  all  went  well  until  the  foot  of  the 
class  was  neared  again. 

"Tony,  what  cape  is  at  the  southern  extremity 
of  South  America?"  The  poor,  sympathetic  little 
teacher  all  but  told  him  in  the  look  that  she  gave 
him.  " Hush,  Jasper,  hush! " — this  to  the  eager  end- 
man — "Tony  knows,  too.  Give  him  time." 


64          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Time!  Tony  dropped  his  lower  jaw  and  stared 
blankly  in  the  face  of  his  teacher.  One,  two,  three 
minutes  passed,  and  the  boy  scratched  one  yellow 
leg  with  the  big  toe  of  the  other  foot  reflectively, 
and  thought,  and  thought,  and  thought. 

The  superintendent  was  gazing  at  Tony  with 
lofty  disapproval;  the  stranger  was  watching  with 
half-closed  eyes  the  flushed,  anxious  face  of  the  girl 
who  was  concentrating  all  her  powers  of  suggestion 
on  the  child. 

"Why,  you  know,  Tony!" — this  from  the  teacher 
— "Don't  you  remember  what  I  kept  you  in  on  last 
Friday?"  But  Tony  didn't  remember.  "Think 
hard,  dear,"  she  urged  in  her  eager  sympathy;  then, 
by  way  of  desperate  suggestion:  "What  do  cows 
have ?" 

A  flood  of  light  broke  over  the  dull,  beclouded  face. 

"Calves!"  exclaimed  Tony,  certain  of  himself  for 
the  first  time  in  his  groping  existence. 

"Cape  Horn!"  screamed  the  end-man  above  the 
uproar  which  followed.  Tony  went  foot,  but  with 
a  sullen,  savage  protest  about  not  having  "missed." 

The  superintendent  swelled  with  shocked  and 
portentous  disapproval,  but  the  stranger  turned  his 
back  on  the  group  and  pinned  his  attention  to  the 
pine  thicket  in  the  near  perspective.  Mary  Eliza 
beth  saw  his  broad  shoulders  shake  unmistakably, 
and  hated  men  on  the  spot,  but  she  rallied  her  out 
ward  composure  heroically.  The  children  were  sent 
back  to  their  seats,  and  quiet  was  restored. 

The  hour  for  closing  had  come,  and  the  teacher, 
flushed  and  nervous,  asked  the  superintendent  if 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST          65 

there  was  anything  else  he  had  to  say  before  the 
pupils  were  dismissed.  There  was  nothing  in  his 
dull,  heavy  eyes  to  suggest  that  he  ever  would  really 
have  anything  else  to  say,  but  the  look  was  decep 
tive.  The  fat  director  of  public  education  rose  pon 
derously  to  his  feet  again,  and  for  fully  twenty  min 
utes  harangued  his  gaping,  awe-inspired  hearers 
about  their  rights  as  American  citizens  and  their  re 
sponsibilities  as  the  fathers  and  mothers  of  countless 
unborn  generations.  It  certainly  did  sound  scary 
the  way  he  put  it;  and  he  took  a  piece  of  chalk 
and  showed  them  by  the  simple  combination  of  a 
figure  "  i "  and  a  whole  charmstring  of  ciphers  how 
billions  of  people  yet  to  come  were  going  to  be 
ruined  by  the  fact  that  "that  one  boy"  (poor 
Tony  again)  "wouldn't  steddy  what  his  teacher  was 
tryin'  to  learn  him." 

At  this  juncture,  one  pitiful  "I  nurver  now,  nei 
ther!"  wailed  through  the  room,  and  then  Tony  sub 
sided  into  his  coat-sleeve,  crushed  by  the  weight  of 
ruined  generations.  The  next  instant  his  teacher 
was  beside  him  on  the  bench,  and  her  arm  was  over 
his  heaving  shoulders. 

"Of  course  you  didn't,  dear,"  she  whispered  into 
his  shock  of  colorless  hair.  Then  she  raised  her 
head  and  shot  a  look  at  the  superintendent  of  pub 
lic  education  that  dared  him  and  his  unborn  mill 
ions  to  "Come  on!"  The  look  glanced  off  the 
superintendent's  ossified  intelligence,  but  the  man 
beyond  caught  the  splendid  fire  of  it  and  kindled 
in  answer  to  it. 


66  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

But  the  superintendent  had  the  last  shot,  and  he 
proceeded  to  hold  out  to  his  hearers  the  ultimate 
hope  that  their  young  teacher  would  learn  how  to 
learn  them  better  when  she  found  out  what  the 
Lord  created  the  hickory  for.  And  he  added  the 
severe  admonition: 

"An'  I  don't  want  to  hear  o'  no  pamperin'  o' 
children  in  this  here  great  county  of  ours.  What 
our  fathers  an'  mothers  was  strong  enough  to  stand, 
we  air  strong  enough  to  stand.  Yes,  boys  an'  girls, 
hit  takes  hardships  to  make  real  men,  men  what 
kin  hold  high  orfice.  Why,  jes  look  at  me,  I  ain't 
never  had  no  pamperin'!" 

At  this  juncture  the  stranger  slipped  quietly  out, 
and  the  official  mogul  took  a  weighty  and  solemn 
farewell  of  them,  commending  them,  with  certain 
reservations,  to  the  care  of  Providence. 

A  few  minutes  after  the  creaking  of  his  buggy 
wheels  had  died  away  in  the  distance,  every  child 
was  well  on  his  homeward  way,  for  the  teacher  dis 
missed  all  of  them,  good,  bad,  and  indifferent,  at 
the  same  time  this  afternoon.  As  the  sound  of  the 
last  childish  voice  died  away,  Mary  Elizabeth  sank 
down  on  the  steps  and  dropped  her  head  on  her 
arms. 

"Say  the  word,  and  I'll  go  after  him."  The 
stranger  laid  his  hand  gently  on  her  arm  as  he  spoke. 
At  the  unexpected  sound  of  his  voice  she  looked  up 
quickly.  Indignation  and  despair  over  what  the 
day  had  brought  had  marred  the  lines  of  her  beauti 
ful  face  and  had  deepened  to  black  the  sometime 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  67 

violet  of  her  eyes.  He  sat  down  on  the  step  beside 
her.  "  Child,  you  mustn't  take  things  to  heart  this 
way.  Now  what  is  there  for  you  to  worry  so  about?  " 

"That — that — old  fat  ignoramus  can  hardly  read 
and  write " 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  bother  about  that." 

"Yes,  but  he's  superintendent  of  education  for 
this  county,  I  tell  you!" 

"What  do  you  care?" 

The  girl  looked  at  him  wonderingly. 

"Why,  don't  you  care?" 

"No." 

"You  don't  care  when  you  see  these  poor,  igno 
rant  things  go  on  the  same  way  year  after  year,  the 
blind  led  by  the  blind?" 

"I  don't  believe  in  the  education  of  the  masses." 

The  girl  stared  unbelievingly  for  a  moment,  and 
then,  all  unconsciously  to  herself,  moved  farther 
away  from  him.  "But — but,"  she  almost  gasped, 
"you  care  when  you  see  the  people's  money  literally 
thrown  away,  don't  you?" 

"Well,  frankly,  I'm  not  interested  in  politics." 

Mary  Elizabeth's  plans  and  specifications  of  a 
man  had  been  of  her  own  making,  uninfluenced  by 
any  concrete  example  except  the  lofty  one  furnished 
by  her  benefactor.  The  man  of  her  designing  had 
been  big,  taking  his  citizenship  from  the  world,  and 
making  the  big  world-interests  his  own.  He  had 
accepted  the  franchise  as  a  solemn  obligation. 

But  here  was  something  new  under  her  sun.  She 
was  simply  unable  to  account  for  it.  Yet  this  new 


68  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

thing  was  a  very  positive  quantity,  and  its  strong, 
virile  personality  was  imminent  and  absorbing. 

"Say,  look  here,  I've  got  a  scheme  on  hand. 
Come,  let  me  show  you,"  he  exclaimed,  and  he  lifted 
her  up  by  the  arm,  almost  bodily,  and  led  her  back 
into  the  deserted  school-house. 

"Now  let  me  tell  you.  It  is  a  shame  for  these 
poor  little  devils  to  have  to  suffer  in  a  shack  like 
this,  and  I'm  going  to  have  it  fixed  up  for  them. 
I've  got  a  couple  of  carpenters  at  work  at  my  place, 
and  there's  plenty  of  lumber  over  at  the  mill." 

"You  mean  you  are  going  to  do  it  yourself?" 

"Sure!  Now  if  you  can  get  your  trustees  to  let 
us,  we'll  make  the  place  comfortable.  Are  the  old 
codgers  apt  to  kick?" 

"Why,  no,  of  course  not.  But,  they  are  not  fond 
of  you — did  you  know  it?  " 

"I  have  very  good  reason  to  suspect  it. — I'll  tell 
you!  Let  them  believe  it's  your  guardian  that's 
doing  it." 

"But  that  would  be  deception,  wouldn't  it?" 

The  man  turned  from  scanning  the  crude  walls 
and  looked  at  her  with  a  curious  expression  that  she 
could  not  interpret.  The  corners  of  his  mouth 
twitched. 

"Oh,  would  it?"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I'm  sure  it  would.  I'll  just  tell  Uncle  Beck 
the  truth  and  he'll  manage  it  for  us." 

"Good  enough.  I  don't  apprehend  any  opposi 
tion,  though.  I  have  somehow  got  the  notion  that 
your  hillite  will  take  anything  that  comes  his  way. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  69 

Now  let's  see  what  is  to  be  done."  He  took  out  a 
note-book  and  pencil. 

"The  cracks  in  the  floor  and  in  the  walls  should  be 
stopped,"  she  ventured. 

"Oh,  we'll  ceil  and  re-floor  the  whole  business." 

"But  won't  that  cost  a  great  deal?" 

"Why,  no.  Then  we  must  stop  up  that  suck- 
hole  and  put  in  a  couple  of  windows  with  sashes. 
You  want  one  on  each  side,  don't  you?  " 

Mary  Elizabeth  fairly  gasped  at  the  bigness  of 
his  plans.  "No,  no,"  she  corrected,  "if  there  are 
to  be  windows,  they  must  be  in  that  wall  so  the 
light  will  come  over  the  children's  shoulders." 

"And,  incidentally,  be  right  in  the  teacher's  eyes. 
No,  the  windows  are  going  to  be  put  here  and  there." 

"Oh,  but  the  children's !" 

"I'm  the  one  that's  doing  this.  One  good  strong 
door  with  glass  in  the  upper  half  for  more  light," 
he  was  making  notes  as  he  talked,  "and  a  new  roof, 
new  door-steps — and,  see  here,  we'll  stop  up  the  fire 
place  and  put  in  a  base-burner  with  a  jacket  around 
it."  Something  in  the  girl's  face  made  him  hurry 
on:  "But  the  carpenters  will  need  space  to  work 
in.  Do  you  think  you  can  get  your  honorable  trus 
tees  to  give  a  week's  holiday  while  the  work  is  being 
done?" 

"Uncle  Beck  would  be  willing,  I'm  sure,  but  I 
wouldn't  do  it  for  the  world.  The  children  would 
lose  so  much  valuable  time,"  she  replied.  "There's 
a  vacant  cabin  down  the  road  a  piece  that  we  could 
use  while  this  was  being  fixed." 


70  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  stranger  said  something  under  his  breath, 
and  Mary  Elizabeth  looked  at  him  with  a  question 
in  her  eyes,  but  he  didn't  repeat  his  exclamation. 

"I'm  so  glad  you  do  care,  after  all,"  she  said  gen- 
tly. 

"'Care'?    For  what?" 

"For  these  poor  people  here." 

"Oh! — One  never  knows  what  one  is  going  to  care 
for." 

A  whinny  from  the  outside  seemed  to  remind  him 
of  something. 

"Come  out  here,  I've  something  to  show  you," 
he  said. 

In  a  few  minutes  they  had  the  school-house  closed, 
and  were  making  their  way  through  the  scrub  thicket 
to  where  he  had  left  his  horse.  But  the  bay  was 
not  alone.  Tethered  to  a  sapling  near  him  was  a 
clean-limbed,  restless  little  mare  that  was  turning 
and  twisting  her  graceful  neck  in  impatient  protest 
against  the  thing  that  restrained  her.  A  lady's  sad 
dle  was  strapped  upon  her  back,  and  all  of  her  trap 
pings  were  of  the  finest. 

"Another!"  she  exclaimed,  "why,  you  were  com 
plaining  only  the  other  day  of  having  to  play  stable- 
boy  to  one." 

"Yes,  but  thanks  to  you,  I  have  performed  the 
impossible — have  actually  got  one  of  these  natives 
to  look  after  them  for  me." 

"How 'thanks  to  me'?" 

"One  of  your  adoring  pupils — I  told  him  you 
wanted  him  to." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  71 

"You  did?    Which  one?" 

"That  young  naturalist  that  you  turned  down  a 
while  ago  because  he  answered  your  question."  He 
turned  away  and  went  up  to  the  filly. 

"This  is  'Bonnie,'"  he  said,  by  way  of  intro 
duction,  and  he  stroked  the  pretty  creature's  nose 
in  answer  to  her  low,  affectionate  whinny.  "I  want 
you  two  to  know  each  other,"  he  continued,  as  Mary 
Elizabeth  joined  him  in  caressing  the  new-comer. 
"Here,  give  her  this,"  and  he  felt  in  his  pocket  and 
laid  several  lumps  of  sugar  in  her  hand.  "You  and 
Donnie  ought  to  get  along  nicely,"  he  continued, 
"you  are  both  so — so " 

"So  what,  now?"  she  challenged,  across  Bonnie's 
nose. 

"Shall  I  say  it?"  he  laughed  back  at  her;  "well, 
then,  so  live  and  sensitive,  and — contrary." 

The  girl  only  smiled  reservedly,  and  he  added: 
"The  poor  creature  has  been  shut  up  in  a  city  stable, 
and  I  had  her  brought  out  for  her  health." 

"And  was  the  saddle  not  thriving  either?"  Mary 
Elizabeth  was  looking  at  him  across  Bonnie's  nose 
again. 

"  I  thought  you  might  be  good  enough  to  help  me 
exercise  her,"  he  ventured,  treading  gingerly  on  the 
uncertain  ground. 

"You  should  have  asked  me  first." 

"But  you  would  have " 

"Beclined  to  let  you  do  it,  of  course." 

"But  it's  done  now.  I  really  had  to  bring  her, 
and  I  just  had  the  saddle  shipped  on  a  venture. 
You  wouldn't  be " 


72  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"'Sensitive'? — 'Contrary'?"  she  suggested. 

"No.  Much  obliged  for  your  help,  but  'mean' 
is  the  word  I'm  after.  You  won't  be  mean,  now,  will 
you? — After  we  have  agreed  to  be  friends?"  The 
girl  did  not  answer  him,  but  stood  stroking  the  filly, 
thoughtfully,  while  her  mouth  took  on  a  proud  re 
serve. 

Suddenly  the  man  reverted  to  his  old  tactics  with 
her: 

"Come,  get  up,"  he  said  peremptorily,  and  he 
held  a  hand  for  her  foot. 

A  little  later  they  were  threading  the  cool  brown 
woods  together  on  a  ride  that  proved  to  be  but  the 
first  of  a  long  series. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  diaphanous  layers  of  gray  mist  had  not  yet 
lifted  from  "Bullus"  Valley  when  Babe  Davis, 
mounted  on  his  flea-bit  mule,  burst  through  the 
dewy  thicket  that  fringed  the  haunted  premises  of 
White-faced  Silas,  and  stopped  in  stupid  wonder 
at  the  scene.  The  underbrush  had  been  cut  away, 
and  the  weed  stubble  levelled  to  the  ground — a  most 
unheard-of  condition.  On  the  roof  of  the  cabin 
were  great  yellow  patches  of  new  shingles,  and  all 
about  the  place  were  glints  of  fresh  pine  boards 
added  to  strengthen  or  to  protect — possibly  to  chal 
lenge.  The  steps  were  new,  the  door  hung  straight, 
and  whole  panes  of  glass  filled  the  window-frame. 
And  there,  sure  enough,  were  the  much-talked-of 
curtains,  symbol  of  mystery,  interposed  between 
him  and  what  lay  within. 

The  sight  was  enough  to  make  any  man  clutch 
the  shining  rifle  that  lay  across  his  saddle  and  set 
firm  his  sagging  jaw.  For  fully  five  minutes,  the 
hillite  sat  with  his  neck  thrust  forward  drinking 
in  the  offending  details  of  the  scene.  Then  he  gave 
vent  to  one  dry,  peremptory  "Hulloa!" 

Stoney  Lonesome  answered  the  challenge,  but  no 
human  voice  replied. 

"Hulloa,  thar,  I  say !    Hulloa ! " 

"Well,  what  is  it?"    John  Marshall  opened  the 

73 


74  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

cabin  door  and  stood,  coatless  and  dishevelled,  on 
the  top  step.  "What  can  I  do  for  you?" 

"I  come  to  see  ef  I  wouldn't  better  do  some  thin* 
for  you,  stranger."  The  man  rode  slowly  forward, 
his  hands  still  on  his  rifle.  "Thought  mebbe  as 
how  you'd  better  be  put  on  notice  afore  you  went 
too  fur." 

If  the  stranger  caught  the  full  suggestion  of  the 
nervous  finger-play  on  the  long  rifle-barrel  or  of  the 
surface  shine  of  the  ugly,  prominent  eyes,  he  made 
no  sign.  He  was  in  shirt-sleeves  and  clearly  un 
armed,  but  he  folded  his  arms  and  answered,  tartly: 

"On  notice  about  what?" 

"Ma'y'Lizbeth." 

A  quick  intake  of  breath  was  the  only  sign  that 
escaped  the  man — then  he  and  the  hillite  fixed  each 
the  other  with  one  long,  steady  look. 

"What  about  Mary  Elizabeth?"  Marshall  asked 
coldly.  "  Let's  understand  each  other." 

"That's  what  I  come  for,  stranger.  I  thought  as 
how,  knowin'  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  didn't  have  no  father 
nor  no  brothers  nor  nothin',  you  might  be  thinkin' 
she  didn't  have  nobody  to  take  her  part,  so  I  'lowed 
I'd  drap  'round  an'  put  you  straight.  I'm  here, 
stranger,  an'  I'm  a-goin'  to  keep  on  bein'  here — 
see  thep'int?" 

The  eyes  of  the  other  man  suddenly  deepened  to 
intensity,  but  his  voice  was  steady  and  even  as  he 
replied: 

"Yes,  I  see  the  point.  But  what  I  don't  see  is 
why  you  think  it  necessary  to  tell  me  this." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  75 

"You  been  mighty  free  with  your  comp'ny  an' 
your  money  lately,  mister,  an'  M'ay  'Lizbeth  air 
mighty  onsuspectin'-like.  You  see  hit's  this  a-way 
— Ma'y  'Lizbeth  b'longs  here.  True,  she's  got  a  lot 
o'  book-larnin',  but  she  ain't  to  blame  for  that;  an' 
she's  a  good  gal  an'  a  mighty  innercent  one  in  spite 
of  it.  So,  you  see  that,  me  bein'  from  the  same 
folks,  hit's  up  to  me  to  see  that  no  harm  don't  come 
to  her — an',  stranger,  I'm  goin'  to  do  it!" 

The  maoK)n  the  door-step  gave  him  a  look  which 
he  had  not  the  imagination  to  interpret,  then  reached 
back  and  pulled  shut  the  door  behind  him  as  if 
openly  cutting  off  retreat.  There  was  no  mistaking 
his  meaning,  however,  when  he  folded  his  arms  again 
and  said,  emphatically: 

"Bully  for  you!"  Then  he  added  in  the  tone  of 
a  man  speaking  to  a  man  who  had  the  right  to  ques 
tion — "On  my  honor,  I  am  playing  fair  with  the 
girl,  and  she  doesn't  need  your  protection  from  me." 

He  hesitated  a  moment  as  if  making  up  his  mind 
how  to  proceed,  and  then  said:  "But  she  does  need 
you — she  needs  us  both.  Your  people  here  don't 
trust  her.  You  probably  know  that  better  than  I 
do.  They  don't  like  her,  somehow,  and  they  seem 
to  be  growing  more  and  more  prejudiced  against 
her.  They  are  unkind  to  her  already,  and  they  may 
come  to  be  worse.  I  say  this  to  you  frankly  be 
cause  you  have  this  morning  proved  your  friendship 
for  the  girl.  I  have  been  free  with  my  money  and 
my  company.  I  have  been  trying  to  give  the  child 
a  few  comforts  and  a  little  pleasure  because  I  saw 


76  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

how  she  needed  them.  Of  course  I  have  sought  her 
society  because  I  enjoyed  it;  but  I  have  deliberately 
done  it  also  because  I  felt  that  I  could,  in  a  measure, 
take  her  mind  off  the  unpleasant  experiences  she 
so  often  encounters  here.  I  felt  that  she  needed 
me — "  he  took  the  full  measure  of  the  other  man 
with  his  eyes,  and  then  added — "And  if  I  know  any 
thing  about  the  meanness  of  this  old  world,  she'll 
need  you  and  me,  too,  before  we  are  many  months 
older.  Here's  my  hand  on  it  that  we'll  take  care 
of  the  girl." 

He  was  weighed  in  the  balance  yet  a  moment 
longer,  and  then  his  firm  white  hand  was  met  by 
the  strong,  horny  grasp  of  the  rustic,  and  the  two 
looked  at  each  other  though  across  the  seeming 
breadth  of  a  civilization — man  and  man — equals! 

After  a  moment  of  awkward  silence,  the  hillite 
asked,  quietly:  "  You  fixed  up  the  school-house ?  " 

"For  Mary  Elizabeth." 

"  She  thought  you  done  it  for  the  childern — Ma'y 
'Lizbeth  is  that  proud!" 

"I  don't  give  a  damn  for  the  children." 

"An'  you  fetched  that  thar  filly ?" 

"For  Mary  Elizabeth.  It  is  unsafe  for  her  to 
walk  these  country  roads  alone.  I  have  sent  the 
mare  to  her  night  and  morning  for  her  trip  to  and 
from  school;  but  the  boy,  Tony  Thaggin,  whom  I 
hired  to  go  errands,  says  that  your  mother  gave  her 
blue  blazes  about  it  when  he  got  there  with  the  horse 
yesterday  morning.  One  of  the  things  you  can  do 
for  the  girl  is  to  make  your  mother  hold  her  tongue." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  77 

"Stranger,  did  you  ever  try  anything  like  that?" 
"Well,  if  I  did,  by  George,  I'd  succeed!" 
"You  ain't  never  tried  hit!  An'  while  we're  on 
the  subject,  stranger,  hit's  been  proned  into  me  that 
you'd  better  send  your  readin'  books  what  you  want 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth  to  read  for  you  to  the  school-house. 
Ma  tuck  them  last  ones  away  from  Tony  an'  burnt 
'em  up.  You  see,"  he  continued,  lamely,  for  an 
explanation  was  plainly  due  the  stranger,  "we-uns 
were  fetched  up  on  the  Bible  an*  the  almanac,  an' 
we  ain't  never  thought  hit  right  to  be  readin'  'bout 
things  what  ain't  the  truth.  Of  course,  Ma'y  'Liz 
beth  bein'  brung  up  difFrent,  she  don't  know  no 
better." 

"Of  course  not,"  assented  the  listener.  "And 
since  we  are  speaking  frankly  to  each  other,  I  want 
you  to  know  that  your  mother  ought  to  be  made  to 
see  that  Mary  Elizabeth  is  not  very  strong,  and 
that,  being  brought  up  differently,  she  can't  stand 
the  heavy  tasks  your  mother  gives  her.  She  told 
me  herself  that  Mrs.  Davis  wouldn't  let  her  have 
any  water  unless  she  drew  it  herself,  and  that  the 
well-bucket  was  so  heavy  it  hurt  her  to  pull  it  up." 
"I'll  draw  hit  for  her,"  said  the  rustic  softly. 
Then,  in  a  tone  that  partook  at  once  of  savagery  and 
resignation:  "I  know  that  ma's  done  got  sanctifica- 
tion,  but  she's  the  meanest  white  woman  I  ever  seen 
when  she  gits  started  on  a  body.  She's  mad  with 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth  b 'cause  she  don't  do  nothin'  but  set 
around  an'  hear  lessons  outen  a  book.  Of  course 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth  don't  do  no  work,  but  she  ain't  to 


78          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

blame  for  it.  She  were  brung  up  different,  an'  she 
don't  know  no  better." 

"Of  course  not,"  assented  the  stranger  again, 
"but  you  understand,  and  you  won't  let  your  mother 
impose  on  her."  Suddenly  he  laid  his  hand  on  the 
mule's  neck  with  the  force  of  a  slap:  "Davis,  what 
is  the  foundation  of  this  sneaking  enmity  against 
the  girl?" 

After  a  moment  of  hesitation,  the  hillite  said  in  a 
tone  which  testified  to  the  awfulness  of  the  crime: 

"For  one  thing,  her  pa  informed!" 

"'Informed'? — Oh,  informed  the  revenue  officers, 
you  mean?" 

The  other  nodded. 

"What  became  of  him?" 

"Hit  ain't  for  me  to  say,  stranger." 

"How  did  she  come  to  get  the  school  here?" 

"Beck  Logan,  him  that's  postmaster  an'  keeps 
the  store,  'ranged  hit  all  with  the  man  that  tuck 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth  'way  from  here  an'  fetched  her  up. 
Uncle  Beck  had  tuck  her  to  his  house  after  hit  all 
happened,  an'  kep'  her  thar  tell  the  stranger  come 
along  an'  tuck  a  fancy  to  her.  Then  when  the 
stranger  got  tired  of  her  an'  wanted  to  send  her 
back,  Beck  up  an'  said  she  should  come  an'  welcome. 
An'  he  mounted  his  mule  an'  carried  the  word  to 
all  the  neighbors  that  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  weren't  to 
blame  for  them  that  went  before  her,  an'  they  jes 
nachully  had  to  give  her  a  square  deal.  Hit  would 
a-made  your  mouth  water  to  hear  him  read  the  riot 
act  to  ma. — An'  the  funny  part  of  it  was,  he  mars- 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  79 

tered  her  an'  made  her  take  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  to  boa'd 
an'  promise  to  keep  her  own  mouth  shet." 

"It  would  have  been  better  for  her  to  board 
with  the  storekeeper,  it  seems  to  me." 

"Wa-al,  you  see,  hit's  this  a-way,  Uncle  Beck  is 
a  widder  man,  an'  hit  wouldn't  a-been  manners." 

"Oh,  I  see.  Well,  is  she  making  any  headway 
with  the  people,  do  you  know?  She  doesn't  seem 
to  think  so." 

"A  little,  stranger;  Mis'  Thaggin  is  plumb  car 
ried  away  with  her;  but  Shan  an'  his  ma  is  dead  set 
agin  her.  She's  been  ra-al  good  buyin'  medicine  for 
Gran'ma  Thaggin,  but  gran'ma  is  awful  sot  in  her 
likes  an'  onlikes,  an'  she  says  she  ain't  to  be  bought 
over  that  easy.  Besides,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  told  her 
that  a  man  'way  off  somewhars  had  already  done 
paid  for  all  she  was  able  to  do  for  people  up  here, 
an'  gran'ma  has  tuck  a  notion  that  Ma'y  'Lizbeth 
ain't  even  givin'  her  rightful  share." 

"The  infernal  old  hag! — Look  here,  Davis,  it's 
just  the  girl's  over-sensitive  conscience  that's  mak 
ing  her  do  that  way.  She  is  evidently  trying  to  pay 
back  to  her  own  people  what  that  guardian  of  hers 
has  done  for  her.  He  raised  her  with  the  one  idea 
of  doing  all  she  could  for  them,  but  he  is  not  provid 
ing  her  with  a  cent  to  spend  on  them.  I  got  that 
much  out  of  her,  myself.  If  Mary  Elizabeth  is  buy 
ing  medicine  for  the  old  woman,  she  is  paying  for  it 
out  of  the  money  she  makes  herself." 

"Now  do  tell!" 

"How  about  the  others?" 


8o          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"They  are  mostly  agin  her  on  account  of  what's 
back  of  her,  stranger,  but  of  course  hit  don't  put  no 
change  on  me.  Then,  they  got  all  tore  up  about 
her  perscriptions  on  the  wall  of  the  school-house, 
an'  they  don't  like  some  o'  the  things  she  teaches. 
But  worse'n  that,  stranger,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth's  done 
got  her  back  up  'bout  the  county  sup'rintender's 
not  knowin'  enough  to  suit  her,  an'  she's  been  talkin' 
'bout  him  scan'lous.  I  heerd  her  with  my  own  years, 
tellin'  a  crowd  o'  men  at  all-day  singin'  last  Sunday 
that  Mr.  Sykes  couldn't  sup'rintend  when  he  didn't 
know  nothin'  'bout  books — an'  that  in  the  face  o' 
the  fact  that  he's  already  been  doin'  it  for  seven 
teen  year! — Lord,  hit's  powerful  hard  to  do  any 
thing  with  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  or  anything  for  her!" 

The  other  man  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes.  Once 
or  twice  he  looked  as  if  he  were  about  to  say  some 
thing,  and  then  he  seemed  to  abandon  the  intention. 
When  he  at  length  found  voice,  it  was  to  say,  simply: 

"But  her  manners  are  so  sweet  and  so  sincere — 
that  ought  to  win  them." 

"I  don't  know,"  the  other  replied,  hopelessly. 
"Some  of  'em  don't  like  her  manners,  neither. 
Thar's  Trav  Williams  jes  nachully  hates  her  for  the 
way  she  done  him." 

"Why,  what  did  she  do  to  him?" 

"He  says  she  p'intedly  turned  her  back  on  him 
at  the  store  one  day  an'  tuck  sides  with  that  man  you 
had  here." 

"That's  a  lie,  of  course!" 

"I  don't  know,  stranger,  Ri  Slaton  seen  it,  an' 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST          81 

what  little  he  tells  is  apt  to  be  true.  Hit's  mighty 
like  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  to  act  uppish  when  she  don't  like 
you,  an'  she's  powerful  fitful.  Of  course  she  ain't 
to  blame  for  it,  though — she  don't  know  no  better." 

He  was  looking  across  and  above  the  misty  valley 
to  the  sunlight  on  the  hills  beyond,  and  there  was  an 
infinite  hunger  in  his  great,  stupid  eyes.  After  a 
little  he  spoke  again. 

"Stranger,"  he  said,  hoarsely,  and  the  fingers  on 
the  rifle-barrel  grew  nervous  again,  "you  air  the 
kind  o'  folks  she's  been  fetched  up  with,  but  you 
ain't  the  same  people,  though.  You  ain't  the  same 
blood,  an'  you  ain't  from  the  same  soil.  I  don't 
know  what  you  want  a-foolin'  round  Ma'y  'Liz- 
beth- 

"I'm  afraid  you  don't  understand  me  in  spite  of 
my  painstaking  explanation." 

"You  love  Ma'y  'Lizbeth?" 

"Why,  no!" 

The  hillite  surveyed  him  for  fully  a  minute  with 
bewilderment  written  all  over  his  features.  "How 
kin  you  he'p  it?"  he  questioned. 


CHAPTER  VII 

IT  was  early  Saturday  morning,  but  Babe  was 
already  back  from  the  store,  for  the  unexpected  had 
happened.  A  letter  had  come  to  Mary  Elizabeth 
and  he  had  ridden  at  high  speed  to  deliver  it  into 
her  hand. 

If  he  had  cherished  the  anticipation  of  standing 
around  and  watching  her  eager  face  as  she  read  it, 
he  soon  found  how  vain  are  human  hopes,  for  Mary 
Elizabeth  seized  the  letter  with  quick  thanks,  ran 
into  her  own  little  room,  and  shut  the  door  firmly 
before  she  even  looked  at  the  "backing"  of  it. 

Inside,  with  her  back  to  the  door,  Mary  Elizabeth 
examined  the  address.  Thank  heaven!  it  was  not 
another  long  dissertation  from  Mr.  Fenwick  preach 
ing  duty  to  rebel  youthfulness.  No,  it  was  a  real 
letter,  it  was  from  "one  of  the  girls." 

Long  and  hungrily  did  she  linger  over  the  few 
scantily  written  pages  which  contained  more  of  an 
apology  for  not  having  written  than  any  definite 
news  of  the  old  school-girl  life  they  both  had  left, 
or  of  the  brilliant,  alluring  career  the  young  society 
girl  had  entered  upon.  The  letter  ended  with  the 
vague  statement  that  there  was  an  enclosure  which 
would  doubtless  prove  of  interest  to  the  reader. 

The  enclosure  now  commended  itself  to  Mary 
Elizabeth's  attention.  She  had  laid  it  aside  unno 
ticed  in  her  first  eager  haste  for  a  breath  of  life  from 

82 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  83 

the  outside  world,  but  she  now  took  it  up  and  un 
folded  it  with  growing  interest.  It  was  written  in 
a  man's  bold  hand  and  on  business  stationery.  It 
ran: 

DEAR  FRED, 

This  is  the  third  letter  I  have  written  to  try  to  lure  you  to 
the  hills,  but  you'll  come  now,  I'm  thinking. 

I  have  found  your  violet-eyed,  dark-haired,  pale-faced 
woman,  and  she  is  just  what  you  have  always  held  she  would 
be — ravishingly  beautiful.  Do  come  up.  If  you  could  paint 
her  face  and  what  lies  beneath  it,  your  fame  would  be  assured. 
But  she  isn't  your  Madonna,  my  boy,  for  she's  got  the  devil's 
own  spirit  lurking  in  the  depths  of  her.  Her  people  were  f  eud- 
ists — so  is  she,  I  suspect;  and  I  have  half  a  fancy  that  she  is 
the  one  I'm  going  to  have  trouble  with.  But  never  mind 
that.  What  I  want  to  convince  you  of  is  that  she  is  the  model 
you  have  been  looking  for. 

Do  you  remember  trying  to  make  me  understand — you 
fool  poet-painter — what  a  woman's  spirit  would  blossom  into 
if  the  world  influences  were  not  allowed  to  enter  in  and  render 
it  complex?  You  said  she  would  be  primal,  but  primally 
pure.  Well,  I  am  beginning  to  understand,  I  think.  If 
you'll  believe  me,  this  hill-girl — she  claims  to  be  native  here, 
but,  by  the  eternal  fitness  of  her  clothes,  she  doesn't  look  it! — 
is  the  woman  I  told  you  would  never  exist.  She  has  been 
well  educated — but  convent  fashion — and  has  an  innocence 
of  the  world  that  would  make  a  long-clothes  baby  look  like  a 
roue.  You  won't  believe  me  when  I  tell  you  that  I  am  being 
good,  but  the  fellow  that  would  put  a  girl  like  that  wise,  would 
pull  up  young  cotton.  It  would  be  funny  if  it  wasn't  just  a 
little  pitiful  to  see  how  absolutely  ignorant  she  is  of  men  and 
of  how  to  deal  with  them.  She  has  never  reached  that  most 
ladylike  and  perfectly  proper  stage  of  being  afraid  of  the  big 
masculine  bugaboo,  but  harbors  the  gentle  trustfulness  of  a 
wild  thing  that  has  never  been  frightened. 


84  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

She  is  all  your  fancy  painted  her.  You'd  say  she  is  a  white 
hyacinth  or  some  such  rot;  but  she  is  just  a  slim  girl  beauty 
with  a  woman  in  her  eyes.  The  man  who  stirs  her  to  her 
depths  is  going  to  be  gloriously  happy,  or  gloriously  the  other 
thing. 

I'll  meet  you  at  Lawler,  the  nearest  railroad  station! 

Besides,  I  need  you,  you  selfish  prig.  I  need  some  damned 
idealist  like  you  to  keep  me  from  wringing  these  natives' 
necks.  They  are  giving  my  surveyors  no  end  of  trouble  and 
I'm  afraid  will  scare  them  entirely  off  the  job.  Only  one  of 
the  bunch  has  good  titles,  and  I've  got  that  one  on  the  string. 
I  am  taking  up  all  the  tracts  which  I  didn't  already  own  by 
having  military  bounty  land-warrants  located  on  them — all, 
that  is,  except  one  quarter-section  block  that  could  not  be 
covered  by  the  warrants.  I  have  regularly  entered  that,  and 
will  make  final  proof  now  very  shortly. 

The  natives  are  only  squatting  on  the  land,  you  see,  their 
forbears  having  conquered  it  from  the  Indians,  and  having 
merely  held  it  since  by  the  right  of  the  strongest  without  get 
ting  out  government  patents  to  it.  I  am  expecting  advices 
from  Washington  soon  as  to  the  locating  of  the  last  warrants, 
and  the  time  will  shortly  be  ripe  for  warning  the  hill-Billies 
to  move  on  and  make  way  for  progress. 

I  can't  have  the  work  commenced  until  the  titles  are  all 
secure,  but  that  will  be  in  a  few  weeks  now,  I  hope.  If  you 
should  happen  to  recover  from  your  squeamishness,  I'll  take 
you  in  on  the  ground-floor  yet  and  make  you  rich.  In  a  few 
years  from  now  you  will  fish  in  a  lake  that  fills  a  mountain 
valley  five  miles  long  and  furnishes  twenty  thousand  horse 
power  for  a  thriving  little  manufacturing  city  on  the  plains 
below.  Isn't  this  worth  hobnobbing  with  a  white-faced 
"ha'nt"  in  a  log 

The  sheet  which  should  have  followed  had  not 
been  enclosed,  and  Mary  Elizabeth  was  left  staring 
at  the  one  she  held,  in  bewilderment. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST       .    85 

Not  until  she  got  to  the  mention  of  the  "white- 
faced  ha'nt"  did  she  once  guess  the  author.  The 
stranger,  John  Marshall,  was  the  man  who  had 
written  it!  But  to  whom?  About  what?  A  note 
on  the  reverse  page  in  the  hand  of  her  girl  corre 
spondent,  unnoticed  until  now,  said:  "Fred  Dear- 
ing,  an  awfully  talented  young  portrait-painter  here, 
showed  me  this.  I  was  telling  him  what  a  pretty 
model  I  thought  you  would  make  when  he  drew 
this  letter  from  his  pocket  and  said  that  it  was  a 
funny  coincidence  that  two  of  his  friends  had  found 
for  him  the  model  he  had  been  looking  for,  and  at 
about  the  same  time.  A  few  questions  brought  out 
the  fact — or  at  least  it  looks  to  me  like  a  fact — that 
you  are  the  girl  here  described.  I  begged  Fred  for 
the  part  of  the  letter  that  touched  on  you,  to  send 
you.  Do  let  me  know  if  you  are  the  girl,  and  who 
on  earth  the  man  is  you  have  captured!  Fred  says 
he  has  no  end  of  money." 

Mary  Elizabeth  turned  back  quickly  to  read  with 
a  fuller  understanding.  "  She  is  just  what  you  have 
always  held  she  would  be — ravishingly  beautiful," 
the  stranger  had  written  about  her.  She  looked  up 
quickly  into  the  little  mirror  which  Babe  had  bought 
for  her,  but  glanced  as  quickly  away  from  its  imper 
fect,  slandering  surface.  "Ravishingly  beautiful" — 
but  what  did  he  mean  by  the  other?  What  did  he 
know  of  "what  lay  beneath" — he,  John  Marshall,  the 
stranger?  A  flash  of  the  spirit  that  he  had  divined, 
repudiated  his  recognition  of  it,  but  the  next  minute 
the  girl  smiled,  for  had  he  not  called  her  "beautiful"? 


86  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  fleeting  smile  gave  way  to  a  rising  flush  as 
she  followed  the  lines  further.  What  in  the  world 
could  the  man  be  talking  about  now?  She  had 
reached  the  "long-clothes  baby"  clause,  and  her  eyes 
were  flashing  but  shamed.  So  it  was  "funny"  and 
"pitiful"  how  ignorant  she  was  of  men  and  how  to 
deal  with  them,  was  it? — her  cheeks  were  scorching 
now.  And  what,  what  was  it  she  had  not  had  sense 
enough  to  be  afraid  of? — for  he  meant,  of  course, 
that  she  didn't  have  any  sense  of  propriety.  She 
had  done  something  that  wasn't  proper  and  he  was 
laughing  at  and  pitying  her!  She  could  not  and 
would  not  stand  it! 

"I  need  some  damned  idealist  like  you  to  keep 
me  from  wringing  these  natives'  necks" — Mary 
Elizabeth  was  waking  up  now.  These  lines  had 
meant  nothing  to  her  at  first,  but  now  she  suddenly 
felt  that  they  were  weighted  with  a  sinister  mean 
ing.  "My  surveyors"!  The  expression  struck  her, 
and  she  read  on  avidly:  "Only  one  of  the  bunch  has 
a  good  title,  and  I've  got  that  one  on  the  string. 
I  am  taking  up  all  the  tracts  which  I  didn't  already 
own  by  having  military  bounty  land-warrants  lo 
cated  on  them — all,  that  is,  except  one  quarter-sec 
tion  block  that  could  not  be  covered  by  the  war 
rants.  I  have  regularly  entered  that,  and  will  make 
final  proof  now  very  shortly."  The  girl  suppressed 
a  cry  as  she  read  on:  "They  are  only  squatting 
on  the  land,  you  see,  their  forbears  having  con 
quered  it  from  the  Indians,  and  having  merely  held 
it  since  by  the  right  of  the  strongest  without  getting 


'THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST          87 

out  government  patents  to  it.  I  am  expecting  ad 
vices  from  Washington  soon  as  to  the  locating  of  the 
last  warrants,  and  the  time  will  shortly  be  ripe  for 
warning  the  hill-Billies  to  move  on  and  make  way 
for  progress."  Mary  Elizabeth  crushed  the  paper 
between  her  desperate  fingers,  and  looked  up  quickly 
with  a  smothered,  "Help  me!" 

A  grave-eyed  memory  answered  her  cry. 

For  the  first  time,  the  girl  had  turned  to  him,  and 
somehow,  she  suddenly  felt  him  very  near.  He 
would  help.  He  would  understand.  In  one  of  their 
last  talks  together  he  had  told  her  about  a  man  who 
had  entered  government  land  which  the  simple  na 
tives  thought  they  owned,  and  what  a  fight  he  had 
had  to  save  it  for  the  poor  settlers.  It  had  bored 
her  then,  but  it  had  impressed  her,  and  now  she 
found  herself  striving  to  remember  all  the  details 
as  he  had  related  them. 

She  would  write  him  at  once,  the  girl  determined, 
and  enclose  him  that  letter. 

But  the  letter  was  John  Marshall's!  The  thought 
came  like  an  illumining  flash,  and  the  girl  grew  fixed 
and  still  in  the  light  of  what  it  uncovered.  The 
letter  was  John  Marshall's,  and  there  was  only  one 
thing  to  be  done — take  it  to  him  and  tell  him  that 
she  had  read  it  and  knew  him  for  what  he  was! — 
But  maybe — maybe — and  with  the  hope,  some 
thing  that  had  been  struck  cold  in  her  suddenly 
flamed  up  again — yes,  maybe  he  could  explain.  Why, 
of  course  he  could  explain!  The  girl  seized  her  hat 
and  jacket,  flung  open  the  door  which  seemed  to 


88  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

obtrude  itself  between  her  and  what  she  desperately 
hoped,  and  ran  out  into  the  morning  freshness. 
There  was  no  one  near  to  question  her,  and  she  was 
soon  out  of  sight,  making  her  breathless  way  to  the 
haunted  house. 

It  was  ten  o'clock  and  after  when  she  arrived,  ex 
hausted  and  white,  at  the  renovated  door-step  of 
the  erstwhile  ghostly  place  and  knocked  for  admit 
tance.  She  did  not  realize  that  she  was  leaning 
against  the  door  for  support,  after  her  hurried  and 
trying  journey,  till  it  suddenly  gave  way  under  an 
opening  hand  and  let  her  almost  fall  into  the  arms 
of  the  man  she  was  seeking. 

"Why,  child,  what  on  earth — "  was  his  greeting, 
and  the  very  tones  of  his  voice  made  the  girl  ashamed 
that  she  had  ever  doubted  him. 

"  Sit  down,"  he  exclaimed,  and  she  was  soon  seated 
in  a  big  split-bottomed  rocking-chair  with  her  as 
tonished  host  standing  over  her,  deeply  concerned. 

"I'll  tell  you  in  a  minute,"  she  panted. 

Marshall  turned  away,  busying  himself  at  a  shiny 
new  tin  safe  for  a  minute,  but  soon  returned  to 
her  side  with  a  glass  of  wine  which  he  held  to  her 
lips. 

"Drink  this,"  he  said,  "and  then  come  out  into 
the  fresh  air  and  let's  take  a  walk." 

Mary  Elizabeth  drank  as  she  was  bidden,  but 
again  rested  her  head  on  the  chair-back  and  looked 
about  her.  Everywhere  were  signs  that  money  had 
been  freely  spent  in  providing  whatever  of  comforts 
the  region  afforded,  but  beyond  this  the  interior  was 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  89 

much  like  the  rooms  she  saw  every  day.  It  was  a 
good,  homey  place  to  rest  in  when  one  was  tired  in 
body  and  in  spirit,  and  when  one  needed  strength 
to  straighten  out  a  disagreeable  complication  of  cir 
cumstances. 

Marshall  was  still  standing  over  her.  He  had  for 
gotten  to  put  back  the  wine-glass.  After  a  moment 
he  asked: 

"Don't  you  feel  like  taking  a  walk  now?" 

"Oh,  I  can't  go  any  further,"  she  said  wearily. 
"Let  me  tell  you  all  about  it  here  while  I  rest,  and 
then  I  can  go  back." 

He  had  taken  an  uneasy  seat  in  front  of  her  on 
the  edge  of  a  table  that  stood  against  the  wall,  and 
now  regarded  her  with  an  inexplicable  expression  in 
his  deep  eyes  as  he  stroked  his  jaw  perplexedly. 

"You  are  not  really  as  tired  as  you  think,"  was 
the  audible  conclusion  he  arrived  at,  "  and  we  needn't 
walk  fast,  you  know.  Come  on  and  let's  try  it." 

"You  are  not  often  inconsiderate,"  exclaimed  the 
quick-tempered  girl;  "I  tell  you  I  am  tired  to  death, 
and  I  am  not  going  till  I  rest!" 

John  Marshall  looked  at  her  a  minute  like  a  man 
who  wanted  to  speak,  then  turned  and  went  out  on 
the  front  steps,  where  he  stood  for  some  little  time 
gazing  fixedly  down  the  mountain  road.  After  a 
while  he  came  back  with  a  determined  expression  on 
his  face,  and  walked  quietly  up  to  her. 

"You  must  come,"  he  said.  "You  don't  under 
stand.  I  am  looking  for  Shan  Thaggin  and  his  wife 
about  the  matter  of  a  land  sale,  and  they  must  not 


90          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

find  you  here.  They  must  not  for  your  sake,  child; 
people  gossip  even  in  the  backwoods." 

Mary  Elizabeth  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant  with 
the  "long-clothes  baby"  clause  of  his  letter  suddenly 
burnt  into  her  understanding. 

"I  never  thought — I  never  thought  for  an  in 
stant — "  she  protested,  tears  of  shame  filling  the 
violet  depths  of  her  eyes. 

Three  minutes  afterward  they  were  threading  the 
wood- way  together,  he  a  little  in  front  talking  cheerily 
about  the  pretty  weather,  and  she  behind,  silent, 
with  head  down,  like  a  child  that  had  been  punished. 
A  plunge  or  two  through  the  pine  thicket,  and  they 
were  out  of  sight  of  the  haunted  house  and  of  the 
mountain  road  that  led  to  it.  Here  a  big  log  was 
soon  singled  out  by  the  man  and  he  turned  reas 
suringly  to  the  silent  girl  behind  him. 

"See,"  he  said,  "here  is  a  good  place  to  rest,  and 
you  can  tell  me  all  about  it."  When  they  were 
seated  side  by  side  on  the  huge  log,  he  said,  in  the 
indulgent  big-brother  tone  he  had  assumed  toward 
her  of  late: 

"What's  the  trouble,  little  girl?" 

"I  got  a  letter  this  morning,"  began  the  girl  with 
her  characteristic  directness,  "and  it  enclosed  a  let 
ter  from  you  to  somebody.  I  have  brought  it  to 
you  because  it  is  yours,  and  because  I  want  you  to 
tell  me  that  it  isn't  trite."  And  she  handed  him  his 
letter. 

Nothing  perturbed,  Marshall  unfolded  the  sheet 
and  began  to  read.  Mary  Elizabeth  could  easily 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  91 

follow,  for  he  had  taken  his  seat  close  beside  her. 
His  quick  eye  scanned  the  first  few  lines — "she  is 
just  what  you  have  always  held  she  would  be — 
ravishingly  beautiful,"  she  saw  him  read. 

"But  it  is  true!"  he  exclaimed,  turning  on  her 
suddenly  a  look  that  made  her  draw  away.  "Oh, 
come  back;  I  am  not  to  blame  for  it,  God  made  you," 
and  he  took  her  by  the  arm  to  detain  her  as  he  re 
turned  to  the  letter.  He  looked  at  her  once  again 
with  a  challenging,  laughing,  daring  glance  such  as 
he  seldom  gave  her  now.  This  time  he  was  looking 
to  see  just  how  much  she  understood  of  his  more 
intimate  analysis  of  her,  but  the  woman  in  her  had 
retired  behind  an  all-obscuring  veil,  and  her  index- 
finger  pointed  farther  down  the  page: 

"That,"  she  said  quietly,  "what  do  you  mean  by 
that?" 

The  man's  face  changed  as  he  read.  It  darkened. 
It  took  on  a  grim,  set  look. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  it?"  came  in  startled  ex 
clamation  from  the  girl  who  was  watching  every 
shadow  of  change  in  his  face. 

The  man  quietly  tore  the  missive  into  a  hundred 
little  bits.  "Just  what  it  says,"  he  answered  slowly, 
as  he  sprinkled  the  white  fragments  on  the  pine 
straw  under  their  feet. 

"No!"  There  was  the  break  of  a  heart  in  the 
cry  that  escaped  her,  but  the  next  moment  she  was 
on  her  feet  and  the  violet  of  her  eyes  had  turned  to 
black. 

"  Yes,"  the  man  answered  her.    Then  he  caught 


92  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

her  suddenly  by  the  wrists.  "Listen  to  me,"  he  in 
sisted,  as  she  struggled  to  free  herself  from  him.  His 
tightening  grasp  brought  her  face  to  face  with  him 
and  she  looked  him  in  the  eyes. 

"You  are  a  scoun-drdl"  she  said. 

Marshall  drew  back  as  if  she  had  struck  him. 
He  released  her  hands  and  rose  to  his  feet.  Mary 
Elizabeth  could  never  have  imagined  that  look  of 
him — the  blue-white  of  his  set  features  and  the 
blaze  of  his  terrible  eyes. 

"You,"  he  said  slowly,  "are — a  woman." 

"Yes,  but  you  will  have  men  that  you  can  fight. 
And  real  men,  too,"  she  flashed  back.  "Don't 
imagine  because  these  poor  things  are  grotesquely 
ignorant  that  you'll  have  any  easy  time  in  robbing 
them!  The  day  is  coming  when  you  will  find  out 
that  it  is  as  hard  to  take  a  log  cabin  from  a  real  man 
as  it  is  to  rob  him  of  a  landed  estate." 

He  was  standing  his  full  six  feet  with  his  head  up 
and  his  straight  look  challenging  her  own,  but  he 
made  no  move  to  interrupt  her  torrent  of  indigna 
tion. 

"Besides,"  the  girl  rushed  on,  "7  am  here  to  see 
that  you  don't  drive  them  out  of  their  homes.  You 
think  I  don't  know  anything  about  law,  but  I  do.  I 
know  that  there  is  a  way  to  thwart  rascality  like 
this!  I  know  where  I  can  get  the  best  lawyer  in 
this  State  and  he  can  stop  you,  I  can  tell  you,  for  he 
has  dealt  with  just  such  cases  before.  And  I  am 
going  to  tell  every  man  in  this  valley  what  you  are 
up  to,"  and  we  will  combine  against  you " 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  93 

"You  are  going  to  tell  these  people  what  you  have 
found  out?"  The  measured  coldness  of  his  voice 
contrasted  queerly  with  her  high-pitched,  excited 
tones. 

"Just  as  soon  as  I  can  get  the  word  to  them." 

"And  are  you  going  to  tell  them  how  you  found  it 
out?" 

Something  in  his  voice  struck  the  girl  quiet  a 
moment. 

"You — you — oh,  what  do  you  mean?"  she  de 
manded,  half  in  fright. 

"That  you  got  your  information  through  reading 
a  private  letter  that  was  not  intended  for  your  eyes?  " 

The  girl  steadied  herself  by  the  log  that  they  had 
quitted. 

"Why— why— I— you— I  will  tell  them!"  The 
stranger  answered  her  never  a  word,  but  he  was 
looking  straight  into  her  eyes.  "I — I  must  tell 
them,"  she  wavered — and  then,  pleadingly,  "You 
will  let  me  tell  them?" 

"No." 

Just  at  that  moment  the  voices  of  the  Thaggins, 
man  and  wife,  come  on  the  matter  of  a  land  deal, 
were  heard  beyond  the  pine  thicket. 

When  Mary  Elizabeth  made  her  dazed  way  home 
that  morning,  it  was  with  the  realization  that  her 
lonely  path  was  being  guarded  by  Tony  Thaggin 
in  the  obscure  distance.  By  whose  orders  he  was 
watching  over  her,  she  knew  only  too  well,  and 
somehow  the  knowledge  made  the  broken  heart 
within  her  throb  with  a  yet  keener  anguish. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  next  afternoon  brought  Mary  Elizabeth  an 
other  letter,  and  in  a  most  unexpected  way.  Uncle 
Beck  had  met  Babe  at  church  and  had  handed  him 
a  letter  that  should  have  been  delivered  the  day 
before,  but  which  had  been  overlooked. 

Mary  Elizabeth  had  done  the  unheard-of  and  un 
forgivable  thing  of  refusing  to  go  to  church  that 
morning,  and  had  stayed  at  home  and  devoted  three 
solid  hours  of  the  Sabbath  to  writing  her  benefactor 
for  help  and  tearing  up  her  mystifying  missives  as 
soon  as  they  were  penned.  And  it  was  no  easy  task, 
for  she  felt  in  honor  bound  not  to  disclose  to  him 
what  she  had  learned  from  Marshall's  letter.  At 
length,  however,  she  had  succeeded  in  writing  a  let 
ter  which  she  was  willing  to  send.  It  said  simply: 

DEAR  GUARDIAN: 

I  want  you  to  help  me  do  something  for  somebody  who 
needs  it  very  much.  It  may  cost  a  great  deal — as  much  as 
a  hundred  dollars,  maybe.  I  am  not  at  liberty  to  tell  you 
now  just  what  it  is,  but  the  cause  is  deserving,  and  I  know 
you  can  trust  me  to  tell  you  the  truth.  Won't  you  write  me 
the  full  details  of  that  incident  about  the  man's  "entering" 
another  man's  land?  Tell  me  all  about  it,  and  how  you  saved 
the  land  for  the  real  owner.  Write  me  this  at  once,  please. 

There  is  something  down  in  the  bottom  of  my  heart  that 
I  would  like  to  say  to  you  this  morning,  but  I  don't  know  how 

94 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  95 

to  do  it.  I  want  to  be  really  sure  that  it  is  there  first.  Please, 
sir,  don't  forget  about  the  hundred  dollars,  and  write  me 
at  once  about  the  land  matter. 

Affectionately, 

MARY  ELIZABETH. 

At  last  the  letter  was  sealed  and  stamped  and  on 
the  little  pine  shelf  under  the  looking-glass.  Mary 
Elizabeth  looked  at  it  with  the  feeling  that  she  had 
done  all  that  was  in  her  power  so  far.  There  really 
was  nothing  else  to  be  done  unless  she  were  to  pray 
that  it  bring  the  needed  help.  But  the  relations 
between  Mary  Elizabeth  and  the  Hearer  of  Prayer 
had  been  strained  for  some  time,  and  last  night  she 
had  taken  Him  to  task  for  many  things  and  had 
told  Him  just  what  she  thought  of  Him.  Clearly 
she  couldn't  expect  anything  of  Him.  But  her 
guardian  would  help  her.  And  she  set  her  white 
teeth  to  stop  the  quiver  of  her  chin,  and  went  out  to 
join  the  family  group,  just  returned  from  church. 

Babe's  unobtrusive  brow  had  never  been  accused 
of  harboring  anything  of  wisdom,  but  down  in  the 
rugged  breast  of  the  man  there  was  something  which 
stood  as  its  equivalent.  He  did  not  give  Mary 
Elizabeth  this  second  letter  until  he  was  able  to  do 
so  entirely  unobserved.  This  was  not  till  after  din 
ner  was  over  and  the  girl  had  set  out  for  the  woods 
in  an  effort  to  escape  what  she  had  battled  with  in 
that  little  room  throughout  all  her  waking  hours 
since  John  Marshall  had  set  his  cowardly  seal  of 
silence  upon  her  lips. 

"No — go  back,"  she  said  to  Babe  Davis  in  the 


96  THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

tone  one  might  have  used  to  a  faithful  dog  that  was 
following.  "I  want  to  be  by  myself."  They  were 
down  by  the  big  gully,  where  he  had  followed  to 
give  her  the  letter.  With  the  wistful  acquiescence 
of  the  ever-faithful,  the  man  obeyed,  but  he  startled 
her  with  the  question: 

"You  ain't  a-goin'  to  walk  with  him,  air  you?" 

"No!"  vehemently. 

"Well,  don't,"  he  said;  "leastways,  not  fur." 
Then  he  turned  back,  leaving  her  speechless  with 
astonishment  that  he,  the  erstwhile  dumbly  acqui 
escent,  had  spoken  to  protest. 

But  Babe  and  his  advice  were  left  behind  with  the 
sight  of  the  little  cabin,  and  Mary  Elizabeth  plunged 
deeper  and  deeper  into  the  woods,  and  at  last  found 
for  herself  a  shady  seat  on  the  pine-needles  far  from 
every  sight  and  sound  except  those  of  the  living 
forest. 

She  had  already  looked  at  the  envelope.  It  was 
directed  in  a  man's  hand — but  not  his,  and  was  post 
marked  "Mobile."  A  moment  after  she  was  seated 
she  had  its  one  page  unfolded  before  her.  The  com 
munication  ran: 

Miss  MARY  E.  DALE, 

Pinetop,  Ala. 
DEAR  MADAM: 

It  becomes  my  painful  duty  to  inform  you  that  your  guar 
dian — or  rather,  the  gentleman  who  acted  as  guardian  to 
you  for  a  number  of  years — dropped  dead  in  his  office  on  the 
afternoon  of  the  sixteenth,  of  heart  failure. 

You  would  have  been  informed  of  the  sad  news  sooner,  if 
I  had  known  your  whereabouts.  The  deceased,  as  you  prob- 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST  97 

ably  know,  was  very  unmethodical,  and  having  no  premoni 
tion  of  death,  took  no  steps  to  provide  for  the  easy  admin 
istration  of  his  affairs.  It  has  been  found,  however,  that 
his  debts  are  fully  equal  to  his  assets.  He  left  no  will,  and 
had  no  heirs.  Permit  me  to  say  that  I  regret  very  much 
your  guardian  did  not  leave  you  substantially  provided  for, 
and  that  I  will  be  glad  to  serve  you  in  any  way  if  you  should 
care  to  look  further  into  his  affairs. 

Yours  very  truly, 

R.  T.  BOSTICK. 
Bostick  &  Weaver,  Att'ys. 

Mary  Elizabeth  looked  up  from  the  formal  signa 
ture  in  a  dazed,  helpless  way.  No,  the  sun  had  not 
gone  out,  it  was  something  else  that  had  made  the 
world  turn  dark — something  which  had  no  connec 
tion  with  herself,  which  had  no  part  in  her  desperate 
schemes  against  the  stranger,  and  no  kinship  what 
ever  with  the  graying  skies  above,  the  wind-swept, 
brown-carpeted  earth  beneath,  or  aught  of  hill- 
tragedy  that  lay  between — something  which  erased 
all  else  and  wrote  across  the  face  of  everything: 
"Whose  arm  raised  that  gray  head  from  the  dusty 
office  floor?" 

The  girl  did  not  cry  out,  neither  did  she  cast  her 
self  down  in  despair  upon  the  brown  earth.  It  was 
all  so  strange,  so  unreal,  it  simply  could  not  be.  She 
sat  very  still  there  among  the  pine-needles  and 
looked  into  nothingness,  utterly  incapable  of  accept 
ing  the  thing  which  had  descended  upon  her.  Again 
she  was  striving,  as  on  that  memorable  night,  to 
recall  his  features,  and  again  only  the  quiet  look  of 
him  answered  her  summons  to  appear. 


9&          THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  gray  hours  crept  by,  the  sky  darkened,  and 
the  restless  pines  grew  still;  arid  in  the  evening  quiet, 
came  face  to  face  the  untamed  spirit  of  the  girl  and 
the  memory  of  the  man  who  had  done  his  stumbling 
best  for  her — with  the  Hearer  of  Prayer  to  judge 
between.  But  it  was  all  so  complex,  so  unreal,  not 
Mary  Elizabeth  could  understand,  nor  could,  per 
haps,  the  grave-eyed  memory — only  He  could  know 
who  was  God  at  once  of  the  fettered,  struggling  souls 
of  the  living  and  the  disembodied  spirits  of  the  dead. 

But  when  Babe  Davis  came  searching  in  the  twi 
light  for  her,  the  girl  looked  up  at  him  with  troubled, 
mist-dimmed  eyes  and  said: 

"Babe,  I  have  lost  &  friend" 

Somewhere  in  that  unmeasured  stretch  of  pain 
that  links  the  death  of  a  hopeless  day  to  the  dawn 
of  one  that  is  still  more  hopeless,  Mary  Elizabeth 
reached  what  she  thought  was  the  answer  to  her  life 
problem:  She  would  pay  back  the  debt  she  owed 
him — not  to  the  last  dollar,  but  to  the  last  heart 
throb  of  it — by  a  life  of  service  to  her  people. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  ha'nted  house  was  hiding  its  sinister  reality 
under  a  most  cheery  and  healthful-looking  disguise 
that  graying  Monday  afternoon.  Not  in  all  that 
mountain  valley  was  there  to  be  found  a  more  gen 
erous  fireplace  filled  with  a  more  briskly  crackling 
fire.  And  not  anywhere  within  those  encircling  hills 
could  be  seen  such  another  illumination  as  streamed 
from  the  well-kept  glass  lamp  through  the  open  back 
door  to  ensure  that  White-faced  Silas  was  not  shad 
owing  the  stable  wherein  Tony  was  performing  his 
evening  tasks.  As  a  further  provision  against  a 
visit  from  the  ousted  ghostly  tenant,  John  Marshall 
walked  heavily  and  whistled  cheerily  as  he  prepared 
the  evening  meal  inside,  or  as  he  every  now  and  then 
came  to  the  open  door  to  call  encouragement  to  the 
boy  in  the  stable. 

After  a  little,  Tony  came  in  and  closed  the  rear 
door  behind  him. 

"You  didn't  beat  me,  you  scoundrel,"  was  the 
man's  hearty  greeting  to  him.  "Supper  is  ready  to 
put  on  the  table,  and  it's  bully!"  The  smoking 
slices  of  country-cured  ham  on  the  broiler  before 
the  big  log  fire,  the  brown  hoe-cakes  on  the  glowing 
hearth,  and  the  spitting  and  sputtering  coffee  near 
by,  offered  themselves  in  enthusiastic  support  of 
his  claims.  In  a  very  short  while  the  edibles  were 

99 


ioo        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

transferred  to  a  rude  pine  table  which  had  been 
drawn  up  for  the  purpose,  and  man  and  boy  drew  up 
their  respective  chairs  opposite  each  other. 

Tony  made  a  long  arm  for  the  hoe-cakes  before 
he  was  fairly  seated,  but  Marshall  snatched  the 
plate  away  tentatively. 

"Have  you  washed  your  hands?"  he  demanded. 
On  being  answered  in  the  affirmative,  he  poked  the 
hoe-cakes  at  the  boy,  but  still  hesitatingly.  "I'm 
a  good  mind  not  to  let  you  have  any  for  not  getting 
us  some  fresh  butter,"  he  declared.  Tony  started 
to  protest,  but  the  other  stopped  him  impatiently — 
"Yes,  I  know  all  about  the  chestnuts,  but  they  will 
not  answer.  I've  told  you  that  a  dozen  times. 
Every  time  I  start  you  out  to  forage  for  something 
to  eat  you  come  back  with  a  load  of  chestnuts  or 
chinquapins!  Do  I  look  like  a  squirrel?" 

"  I — I — I  got  your  whiskey." 

"Well,  that's  something  like.  Have  a  hoe-cake, 
young  moonshiner." 

Then  man  and  boy  fell  to  right  heartily,  and  in 
all  too  short  a  time,  physiologically  reckoned,  ate 
their  way  through  to  the  dallying,  toying  stage  of 
the  process. 

Marshall  became  reflective.  Indeed,  anybody 
else  but  Tony  might  have  seen,  through  the  whole 
evening,  that  there  was  something  on  the  man's 
mind.  With  the  stirring  of  that  something,  the 
cloaking  cheeriness  of  his  mood  now  dropped  away 
from  him,  and  his  strong  face  took  on  lines  that 
might  have  been  the  finger-marks  of  either  a  callous 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         101 

hardness  or  a  deep  and  hidden  hurt.  After  some 
moments  of  thought  he  asked: 

"  How  did  you  get  in  so  early  this  evening?  Didn't 
you  go  home  with  your  teacher?" 

"No— o—o." 

"Well,  why  in  thunder  didn't  you?" 

"She  wouldn't  let  me." 

"Why  didn't  she  let  you?  I'll  bet  you  gave  the 
whole  thing  away!" 

"Huh?"  said  the  boy,  beginning  to  lose  his  mental 


oars. 

(C 


Tony,  I'll  shake  you  in  a  minute!  What  did  she 
say  to  you?" 

"  Oh,  her?  Why  she  said — she  said  ef  I  was  a-goin' 
to  come  home  with  her  'cause  I  loved  her,  I  might 
could  come;  but  ef  I  was  comin'  'cause  you  sont 
me,  I  shouldn't." 

"Well,  you  told  her  you  were  going  because  you 
loved  her,  of  course?" 

"Huh?" 

Marshall  looked  up  with  a  quick  flash  of  temper, 
but  restrained  himself  and  repeated  his  question 
again  and  more  deliberately. 

"No,"  said  Tony,  after  the  import  of  the  inquiry 
had  been  dinned  into  him,  "no,  I  told  her  you 
sont  me." 

"Well,  didn't  I  tell  you  not  to!"  The  man 
clutched  the  loaf  of  bread  in  one  hand  and  a  carving 
knife  in  the  other  as  if  threatening  to  visit  upon  the 
scapegoat  loaf  the  wrath  that  he  could  ill  contain. 

"Teacher  told  me  to  always  tell  the  truth." 


102         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  executioner  paused,  looked  at  the  boy  a  few 
minutes,  and  then  quietly  laid  bread  and  knife  down 
upon  the  table. 

There  was  a  period  of  silence,  and  then  Tony  asked, 
laconically: 

"Howcome  teacher  didn't  ride  the  mare  to-day?  " 

"Teacher's  tired  of  riding,"  savagely. 

"Howcome  she  sont  all  them  back  to  you?" — he 
indicated  with  a  nod  a  pile  of  novels  on  the  side 
table. 

"Teacher's  tired  of  reading,  you  damned  fool!" 

Another  silence  in  which  both  man  and  boy  made 
further  headway  in  the  viands,  and  then  the  former 
asked: 

"Tony,  do  people  like  the  teacher  better  than  they 
used  to?" 

Tony  thought  a  minute  and  then  replied:  "The 
chilluns  likes  her." 

"Yes,  but  the  grown  folks?" 

Tony  thought  another  minute  and  gravely  shook 
his  head.  "  They  sho'  don't,  stranger." 

"Why  not?" 

"Idunno." 

"Does  Mr.  Sykes,  the  superintendent,  like  her?" 

"He  hates  her." 

"Why?" 

"Idunno." 

Here  the  back-log  dropped  in  two,  and  Marshall 
busied  himself  for  a  space  in  ramming  the  noses  of 
the  severed  chunks  together  toward  the  front  of 
the  dog-irons  and  heaving  on  another  immense  log 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         103 

at  the  back.  He  seemed  to  enjoy  stamping  this  into 
conformity  to  the  space  to  which  he  assigned  it. 
When  he  returned  to  his  seat,  he  asked  of  the  boy: 

"How  does  she  seem  to-day?" 

"Who?" 

"The  teacher.    Is  she — is  she — sad?" 

"No,  mad." 

"Oh!" 

After  Tony  had  braced  up  on  another  huge  slice 
of  ham  and  a  hunk  of  lightbread  which  he  was  left 
to  cut  for  himself,  he  asked,  as  if  something  were  on 
his  mind: 

"What's  'sad'?  Is  hit  sorter  sorry  an'  droopy- 
like?" 

John  Marshall's  affirmative  nod  was  accompanied 
by  a  quick  look  of  interest. 

"Well,"  said  the  boy,  who  could  think  fairly  con 
secutively  when  not  interfered  with,  "she  was,  to 
say,  more  snappish  than  sorry  when  I  told  her  you 
said  for  me  to  go  home  with  her;  but  she  was  sad 
though — awful  sad  onct." 

"When?" 

"When  she  told  me  what  to  tell  Uncle  Beck  'bout 
that  man  dyin'." 

"Whatman?" 

"Huh?" 

"What  man  was  it  that  died,  Tony?" 

"Oh,  somebody  away  from  here.  Somebody  that 
onct  was  good  to  her." 

"The  man  that  raised  her?" 

"Huh?" 


104        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"The  rich  man  that  took  her  away  from  here 
when  she  was  little  and  took  care  of  her — her  guar 
dian?" 

"Guardeen — yes — that's  what  she  called  him. 
He  drapped  dead  t'other  day — but  he  wasn't  rich." 

"How  do  you  know?"  the  man  was  all  interest. 
He  leaned  forward  slightly  to  get  the  boy's  reply. 

"  'Cause  when  I  rid  over  to  the  store  at  big  re 
cess  to  tell  Uncle  Beck  what  she  said — I — she — a — " 
Tony  was  drifting  again. 

"What  did  you  hear  at  the  store?"  Marshall 
asked  by  way  of  bringing  him  back  to  his  moor 
ings. 

"Oh,  I  heerd  Mr.  Davis  a-tellin'  Uncle  Beck  'bout 
the  man  a-dyin',  an'  he  said  he  hadn't  left  teacher 
a  cent." 

"Which  Davis?" 

"The  one  what's  takin'  notice  o'  teacher." 

"Are  you  sure  he  said  that?" 

"Huh?" 

"Are  you  sure  he  said  that  that  man  didn't  leave 
teacher  a  cent?" 

"Yes,  didn't  I  hear  him  with  my  own  years?" 

The  man  got  up  quickly  from  his  chair  and  strode 
the  length  of  the  room  and  then  back  again.  "Poor 
girl,  what  will  she  do?"  he  asked  half  aloud  in  his 
solicitous  musings;  and  then — "Yes,  by  George, 
I'll  buy  that  place  of  hers!  She  must  have  the 
money  to  get  away  from  here!" 

"Huh?"  Tony  asked  in  questioning  answer  to  his 
unconscious  exclamation. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         105 

"Oh,  nothing,"  Marshall  replied,  impatiently. 
"Fall  to  and  wash  up  your  dishes  now,  and  get 
along  home." 

It  was  "big  recess"  time  of  the  following  day, 
and  the  children  had  just  scattered  to  the  sunny 
stretches  outside  to  eat  their  lunches.  Mary  Eliza 
beth  remained  in  the  school-room,  making  the  keen 
little  wind  that  was  blowing  her  excuse  to  be  alone 
for  a  coveted  hour.  Morning  had  come  with  its 
usual  quota  of  troubles  for  the  teacher,  and  this  was 
the  first  opportunity  she  had  had  to-day  to  take 
stock  of  the  wreckage  left  by  the  storm  that  had 
swept  over  her. 

Only  last  Saturday — three  days  ago  by  the  calen 
dar  that  hung  on  the  wall,  but  ages  and  ages  past, 
measured  by  the  suffering  that  had  been  hers — John 
Marshall  had  been  discovered  by  her  to  be  engaged 
in  a  villainy  deep  and  mysterious;  that  night  the 
Hearer  of  Prayer  had  failed  her  and  she  had  defied 
Him  to  His  face;  and  day  before  yesterday — could 
it  be  that  it  was  only  day  before  yesterday? — there 
had  dropped  out  of  reach  of  her  tardy  gratitude 
forever  the  only  thing  in  her  life  that  had  proven 
worth  while.  Too  vast  for  expression,  the  pain  of 
it  all  lay  a  dead  weight  on  her  aching  heart  as  the 
cruelly  slow-paced  minutes  passed. 

Then,  almost  mechanically,  her  glance  took  in  the 
new  and  hardly  yet  familiar  details  of  the  room  in 
which  she  sat.  All  about  her  were  the  comforts 
which  John  Marshall  had  placed  there  for  the  sake 


io6        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

of  the  suffering  children,  yet  John  Marshall  was  even 
then,  perhaps,  perfecting  against  them  and  theirs  a 
nefarious  scheme  which  she,  Mary  Elizabeth,  was  for 
bidden  on  her  honor  to  disclose  to  them.  It  was  in 
tolerable — something  must  be  done,  something  that 
would  force  the  man  to  let  her  speak.  She  must  see 
him,  she  must  find  a  way! 

As  if  conjured  up  by  her  thoughts,  John  Marshall 
at  that  moment  entered  the  door  of  the  school-room 
in  the  wake  of  a  courteous  child  who  was  showing 
him  in.  The  impatient  usher  did  not  wait  to  see  that 
the  teacher  rose  to  her  feet  but  remained  silent  even 
when  the  stranger,  hat  in  hand,  gave  her  a  formal 
greeting. 

Perhaps  the  man's  ill-concealed,  shocked  surprise 
at  the  change  in  the  girl's  face  kept  him  from  noticing 
her  neglect  to  answer  him,  or,  maybe,  he  purposely 
ignored  it.  Anyway,  there  was  no  resentment  in  his 
quiet,  firm  voice  as  he  said: 

"I  have  something  of  importance  to  say  to  you. 
Sit  down." 

Though  distinctly  uncompromising,  Mary  Eliza 
beth  slipped  into  the  chair  that  stood  before  the 
teacher's  desk  and  indicated  a  seat  to  the  stranger. 
A  thoroughly  awakened  curiosity  veiled  in  part  the 
deep  indignation  that  was  burning  in  her  eyes. 

"What  is  it?"  she  found  herself  saying. 

"Do  you  remember  that  when  I  first  met  you,  you 
said  that  you  owned  a  place  over  the  ridge  that  used 
to  belong  to  your  father,  and  that  you  wanted  to  sell 
it?" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         107 

"Yes,"  quietly,  but  her  eyes  were  darkening  omi 
nously. 

"  Well,  I  have  come  this  morning  to  tell  you  that  if 
you  still  want  to  sell,  I  will  give  you  your  cash  price 
for  it." 

"Do  you  take  me  for  a  child?  For  worse?"  she 
flashed  out  before  his  last  sentence  was  well  out  of  his 
mouth. 

"I  don't  understand  you." 

"You  mean  that  you  are  counting  on  my  not  un 
derstanding  you !  So  it's  my  place,  is  it,  that  is  the 
one  of  all  the  lot  which  the  owner  holds  good  titles 
to?  And  /  am  the  person  that  you  have  'on  the 
string '?  Did  you  think  that  I  could  forget  the  phras 
ing  of  that  infamous  letter,  and  so  soon  as  this?" 

For  fully  a  minute  he  did  not  speak;  he  was  making 
a  visible  effort  to  control  himself,  and  Mary  Elizabeth 
was  suddenly  conscious  of  a  queer  little  feeling  of  fear 
at  his  power  of  self-repression.  When  Marshall  did 
speak,  his  voice  was  under  his  control.  He  picked 
up  a  pencil  that  lay  near  and  drew  toward  him  a  sheet 
of  paper.  He  was  leaning  toward  her  that  he  might 
use  part  of  the  desk  space  for  a  hard  surface  upon 
which  to  draw. 

"If  you  will  suspend  judgment  for  a  while,"  he 
said  through  compressed  lips,  "I  will  show  you  what 
I  am  doing  here  and  prove  to  you  that  you  are  fight 
ing  windmills."  He  began  to  trace  a  crude  drawing 
on  the  paper.  Mary  Elizabeth's  curious  glance  oscil 
lated  between  the  paper  under  his  hand  and  the  face 
of  the  man,  which  was  in  profile  toward  her  and  quite 


io8        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

near.  She  caught  herself  marking  the  fine,  strong 
outline  of  the  face,  and  feeling  a  keen  interest, 
through  the  oblique  but  near  view  she  commanded, 
in  the  fire  that  she  had  kindled  in  his  eyes. 

"To  begin  with,"  he  said,  "this  valley  that  we  are 
living  in  is  just  a  little  concavity  scooped  out  of  the 
top  of  one  of  the  highest  plateaus  in  the  State.  It  is 
surrounded  by  a  ridge  with  only  one  break — at  the 
falls  that  we  visited  together — and  contains  a  half- 
dozen  of  the  boldest  springs  in  the  country  which  to 
gether  furnish  a  remarkably  fine  supply  of  water.  I 
purpose  to  buy  up  this  depressed  region — about  five 
miles  in  length — dam  the  break  at  the  falls,  and  con 
vert  the  whole  valley  into  a  reservoir  in  which  shall 
be  stored  water  for  all- the-y ear-round  usage."  He 
looked  up  into  her  face  for  a  moment  as  if  speculat 
ing  as  to  whether  to  proceed  or  not,  and  said,  paren 
thetically,  "  I  am  putting  myself  into  your  hands,  you 
see."  Then  he  returned  to  his  drawing,  and  con 
tinued:  "I  expect  to  regulate  this  water-power  and 
use  it  to  generate  electric  power  which  will  supply  all 
the  needs  of  a  model  manufacturing  city  to  be  located 
twenty  miles  south  of  here  where  two  prospective 
railroads  are  to  cross  another  already  in  operation, 
and  where  materials  are  at  hand  for  the  manufacture 
of  steel.  Now  that  is  my  nefarious  scheme.  This 
place  of  yours  that  we  are  discussing  is  not  in  the 
valley  at  all  and  is  not  in  any  way  necessary  to  the 
furtherance  of  our  project.  I  need  absolutely  only 
the  land  which  I  am  to  submerge,  and  a  few  acres 
at  the  falls  on  which  to  locate  a  power  plant.  Your 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         109 

father's  place  is  two  miles  east  of  this  spot."  The 
explanation  finished,  he  moved  a  little  away  from  her 
and  looked  at  her  as  if  he  expected  her  to  understand. 

"Then  what  do  you  want  with  it?" 

She  was  sharp  enough  to  see  that  her  quick  ques 
tion  disconcerted  him  in  a  degree. 

"Why,  I  shall  use  it  for  the  site  of  a  workmen's 
camp,  I  suppose." 

"  Mr.  Marshall,"  said  the  girl,  deliberately,  and  her 
voice  was  strange  to  him  as  she  answered  him,  "I 
am  not  the  same  girl  I  was  when  I  talked  to  you  that 
first  morning.  I  am  not  now  fighting  to  get  rid  of 
the  responsibility  which  has  been  laid  upon  me,  and 
I  have  found  out  somehow  that  there  are  debts  which 
cannot  be  paid  in  money.  I  am  not  the  selfish — 
and — cowardly  girl  I  was  that  day.  I  am  a  woman, 
and  the  woman  in  me  is  going  to  stand  her  ground." 
The  man  drew  a  deep  breath  and  the  expression  in  his 
eyes  softened.  "I  am  going  to  stand  my  ground 
against  you,"  she  concluded,  "and  refuse  your  covert 
bribe  to  silence." 

Marshall  rose  from  his  chair.  There  was  on  his 
face  the  look  that  had  frightened  her  in  that  last 
interview. 

"  I  have  no  words  with  which  to  answer  that  from  a 
woman,"  he  said. 

He  was  going.  He  was  moving  toward  the  door. 
Mary  Elizabeth  suddenly  remembered  that  she  had 
determined  to  force  him  to  release  her  from  her  obli 
gation  to  her  own  sense  of  honor  and  let  her  make  one 
effort  to  save  the  homes  of  her  people. 


no        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"Mr.  Marshall." 

He  turned  in  his  tracks  and  paused,  but  he  did  not 
answer  her.  Mary  Elizabeth  rose  and  came  a  step 
or  two  nearer  him. 

"On  what  conditions  will  you  let  me  speak — let 
me  tell  what  I  read ?" 

"On  whatever  conditions  are  imposed  by  your  own 
sense  of  honor,"  and  he  left  her  with  never  a  look 
backward. 

"When  air  you  a-goin'  to  go  'way? "  It  was  Tony 
who  had  found  her  in  her  indignation  and  despair. 

"I  don't  understand  you,  Tony.  Go  away  from 
the  school-house,  do  you  mean?"  She  was  too 
wrought  up  to  wonder  at  his  sudden  presence. 

"No,  go  'way  f'm  here — 'way  off  an'  not  come 
back,  mebbe?" 

"Why,  I  am  not  going  at  all — ever." 

Heaven  opened  in  the  child's  clouded  face — "Why, 
he  said  you  was." 

"Who  said  I  was?"  the  girl  was  fairly  startled  at 
the  guess  she  made. 

"Mr.  Marshall — him  what  was  in  here  to  see  you 
jes  now." 

"Mr.  Marshall  said  what,  Tony?  Think  hard  and 
tell  me  the  very  words  he  said." 

But  Tony  couldn't  think. 

"When  was  it,  dear?" — patiently. 

"Las'  night." 

"Where?" 

"Up  to  his  house." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         in 

"How  did  he  come  to  say  anything  about  me?" 

"He  was  pestered  'cause  I  told  him  your  guardeen 
had  done  died  an'  hadn't  lef  you  no  money." 

"Oh,  Tony!" 

"Yes,  he  was  pestered,  too,"  he  declared,  protest 
ing  against  what  he  took  for  scepticism  in  her  face: 
"He  was  awful  pestered,  'cause  he  jumped  up  outen 
his  cheer  an'  walked  up  an'  down  the  floor  lookin' 
that  worrited,  an'  sayin' — an'  sayin' " 

"  Saying  what,  Tony?  "  desperately. 

Suddenly  a  ray  of  light  came:  "Poor  girl,  what  will 
she  do?"  the  boy  repeated  mechanically,  and  all  un 
consciously  imitating  Marshall's  very  tone  of  voice. 
Mary  Elizabeth  was  very  white  and  quiet  when  she 
asked  again: 

"What  was  it  Mr.  Marshall  said  about  my  going 
away?" 

"Oh,  yes" — the  light  was  coming  steadier  now — 
"he  was  a-talkin'  to  hisse'f-like,  an'  he  said  he  was 
goin'  to  buy  sump'n  f 'm  you  so  you  might  could  have 
the  money  to  go  'way  f'm  here — teacher! — teacher! 
— be  you  sick?" 


CHAPTER  X 

MARY  ELIZABETH  had  scarcely  finished  pinning  a 
note  in  Tony's  jacket,  when  the  door  of  the  school- 
house  opened  and  admitted  Uncle  Beck.  There  was 
a  flutter  of  excitement  among  the  kept-in  children, 
and  the  little  teacher's  face  flushed  with  pleasure,  for 
in  all  that  country  around  there  was  no  one  man  so 
much  loved  and  esteemed,  so  always  welcome,  as  the 
genial,  kindly  store-keeper. 

Mary  Elizabeth  knew  that  he  was  there  in  answer 
to  her  unexpressed  call  for  sympathy,  so  she  hurried 
through  the  penitential  tasks  she  had  imposed  on 
the  kept-ins  and  sent  them  on  their  way  rejoicing, 
that  she  might  have  a  long,  undisturbed  chat  with 
Uncle  Beck. 

When  the  door  was  shut  on  the  last  hurrying 
urchin,  she  turned  to  the  old  man.  Uncle  Beck  sat 
poking  the  fire  and  punching  down  the  ashes  as  if  it 
were  his  one  business  in  life. 

"Wa-al,  Purty,"  he  said  cheerily  as  she  took  a  seat 
beside  him,  "  the  best  thing  to  do  for  a  man  that's  in 
trouble  is  to  feed  him.  You  womenfolks  ain't  built 
that  way,  but  I  'lowed  a  little  sump'n  sweet  would 
holp  you  up  a  bit."  He  was  feeling  in  his  great  sag 
ging  pockets,  and  soon  brought  out  two  big  red 
apples  and  a  generous  package  of  stick  candy.  "  You 
always  was  crazy  'bout  the  pepperment  kind  'cause 
hit  was  striped,"  he  reminded  her.  He  searched 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         113 

again  and  this  time  produced  a  yellow  paper  sack  of 
something. 

"  Guess  what,"  he  commanded. 

"Tea-cakes — scalloped  tea-cakes,"  she  exclaimed, 
her  eyes  answering  his  expectant  smile. 

"Now  ain't  that  like  her!"  he  chuckled  with  de 
light. 

"Like  who?" 

"Like  the  little  freckle-face  gal  what  used  to  swing 
her  bare  legs  from  my  counter  ^n'  give  me  orders 
about  the  kind  she  wanted — me  settin'  up,  too,  mind 
you! — Like  the  little  gal  what  went  away  from  here 
an'  never  come  back." 

"But  she  did  come  back,  Uncle  Beck,"  and  she 
laid  one  hand  on  his  rough  shoulder. 

"Whar's  them  freckles,  I'd  like  to  know?"  he  de 
manded  with  mock  suspicion. 

"I  took  them  off." 

"The  name  o'  nation!" 

"Yes,  I  did,"  and  she  smiled  at  his  undisguised 
astonishment.  "I  put  a  strong  medicine  on  my 
face  that  took  all  the  skin  off,  and  the  freckles  came 
with  it." 

"Nachully!    But  did  you  mean  to  do  it?" 

"Why,  of  course." 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  I  always  did  sorter  b'lieve  that 
Providence  was  jes  prankin'  with  us  when  He  made 
women."  He  took  the  pointed  chin  of  the  girl  be 
tween  his  thumb  and  forefinger  and  raised  her  head 
up  for  a  better  look  into  her  face.  "I  wonder  ef  He 
ra-ally  did  mean  you  to  be  took  in  earnest." 


114        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"My  guardian  took  women  in  earnest.  He  took 
me  in  terrible  earnest."  She  looked  past  Uncle  Beck 
to  the  bleakness  of  the  winter  scene  outside. 

"I  was  mighty  sorry  to  hear  'bout  him  a-dyin', 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth."  He  had  warded  off  the  painful 
subject  as  long  as  he  could,  after  the  manner  of  men. 
"He  was  mighty  good  to  you,  wa'n't  he?" 

The  girl's  face  paled.  "  I  am  just  beginning  to  un 
derstand  how  good,"  she  said,  quietly. 

Uncle  Beck  got  very  busy  punching  down  the 
ashes  again.  When  he  straightened  up  he  said  in  a 
more  cheerful  tone: 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  hit  ain't  that  I'm  uncarin'  when 
I  talk  'bout  business  so  soon,  but  I'm  mighty  anxious 
to  know  how  he  left  you  pervided  for.  Babe  Davis 
said — hit's  your  'Uncle  Beck'  what's  astin  the  ques 
tion,  honey " 

"He  didn't  have  anything  to  leave,  Uncle  Beck. 
But  I  can  work,  you  know;  I  don't  mind  that."  And 
she  smiled  tenderly  as  she  echoed  the  beloved  so 
briquet. 

"Too  bad,  too  bad,"  and  he  gave  the  ashes  another 
vigorous  punching. 

"If  you  don't  stop  that  we  won't  have  any  fire 
left!"  said  the  girl  firmly.  The  old  man  desisted 
promptly,  but  he  had  got  the  courage  he  was  playing 
for. 

"Honey,"  he  said,  looking  at  her  gravely,  "have 
you  got  any  money  left?  " 

"Left  from  what?" 

"Didn't  he  send  you  money  regerlar?" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         115 

"No,  he  offered  to,  but  I  told  him  I  would  make 
my  salary  do,  and  would  not  be  a  burden  to  him  any 
longer.  That  pleased  him  very  much.  It  was  not 
that  he  cared  for  money — he  gave  away  all  he  made — 
but  he  said  that  the  struggle  would  develop  me." 

"Wa-al,  he  hadn't  ought  to " 

"Yes,  he  ought,  Uncle  Beck." 

"You  ain't  answered  me,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth." 

"Oh. — I  have  a  dollar  and  sixty  cents,  I  think." 

"You  ain't  got  no  other  dependence  but  jes  that 
an'  what  you  git  for  teachin'?" 

"Well,  my  salary  is  enough." 

"Yes,  a  plenty  for  present  purposes,  child,  but  ef 
anything  should  happen — ef  you  was  to  be  took  bad 
sick  or  anything  like  that " 

"Oh,  I'd  manage  some  way." 

"You'd  come  to  me,  I  hope." 

"  I  wouldn't  go  to  anybody.  I  am  going  to  be  ab 
solutely  independent.  And  more  than  that,  I  am 
going  to  pay  to  those  who  need  it  what  Mr.  Fenwick 
spent  on  me.  I  feel  now  that  that  was  really  the  way 
he  always  intended  to  have  me  pay  him." 

The  old  man  looked  worried;  but  the  gentle  smile 
was  not  long  out  of  his  eyes,  and  after  a  moment  or 
two  he  said,  quizzically: 

"You've  got  what  I  call  'enlargement  of  con 
science,'  Ma'y  'Lizbeth.  I  hope  it  ain't  ketchin'." 

"Well,  Uncle  Beck,  isn't  it  my  duty  to  do  what  I 
can?" 

"Hit's  your  duty  to  do  what  you  can,  but  not  what 
you  can't,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  thar's  a  diff'rence  be- 


n6        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

tween  the  two  that  some  folks  don't  always  appreci 
ate.  Now  jes  you  go  slow,  honey;  the  responsibil 
ity  ain't  all  yourn." 

The  girl  looked  thoughtful  for  a  moment  but  then 
said  with  her  old  emphasis: 

"  As  much  of  the  responsibility  is  mine  as  I  can  pos 
sibly  cany,  Uncle  Beck;  that  is  the  faith  he  taught 
me." 

The  old  man  had  grown  grave.  He  was  visibly 
troubled,  and  started  to  say  something,  but  hesi 
tated.  The  next  moment  he  shifted  to  his  placating 
mood  again  and  said: 

"Wa-al,  honey,  we'll  both  of  us  know  more  when 
we're  older.  But  goin'  back  to  the  subject  of 
freckles:  I'm  pleased  to  know  that  you've  had  some 
little  experience  in  skinnin'  people  alive,  b'cause  you 
need  it  in  your  business." 

"What  do  you  mean,  Uncle  Beck?" 

"I  mean  that  you've  jes  nachully  got  to  take  the 
hide  off 'n  some  o'  them  big  boys.  You've  got  to  lick 
'em,  gal,  an'  the  sooner  you  git  down  to  it,  the  better 
hit'll  be  for  all  concerned." 

"You  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about, 
Uncle  Beck.  You  just  ought  to  come  and  see  how 
well  they  mind  me.  Why,  there's  not  a  single  one  of 
them  that  would  deserve  a  punishment  like  that  even 
if  it  were  right  to  give  it  to  him." 

"Sh-h-h,  honey,  don't  you  never  let  nobody  but 
your  Uncle  Beck  hear  you  say  a  thing  like  that! 
1  Right  to  give  hit  to  him'!  Why,  child,  you'll  be 
a-sayin'  sassafras  tea  ain't  good  for  'em  next!  Now 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         117 

you  don't  understand  me.  Hit  ain't  any  question 
whether  or  not  them  hulkin'  fellers  is  doin'  any  one 
certified  thing  callin'  for  a  lickin'.  The  real  ques 
tion  is  that  you  got  to  break  their  sperits,  you  got 
to  tromple  on  'em  a  bit;  hit's  a  good  tonic  for 
'em." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  quickly  with  reproach  in  her 
glance.  She  didn't  see  the  twinkle  in  his  eyes  for  the 
mist  that  rose  in  her  own. 

"Uncle  Beck,  I  wouldn't  have  thought  it  of  you!" 
was  all  she  could  say. 

The  old  man  leaned  forward  and  tapped  her  on  the 
wrist  several  times  with  the  new  plug  of  tobacco  he 
had  taken  from  his  pocket. 

"  See  here,  child,"  he  said,  very  earnestly  now,  "  hit 
ain't  me.  Ef  you've  got  any  patent  way  o'  makin'  a 
man  outen  a  boy  'thout  lickin'  him,  I'm  agreeable. 
But  the  people  ain't  satisfied — they  ain't  got  much 
faith  in  anything  but  the  old  reliable.  Mister  Sykes 
has  been  spreadin'  hit  around — I'm  tellin'  you  this 
for  your  own  good,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth — that  you  let 
Tony  Thaggin  miss  an'  miss  an'  miss,  without  ever 
hittin'  him  a  lick  for  it.  Understand,  I  don't  b'lieve 
hit,  child,  but  other  people  do." 

"Uncle  Beck,  Tony  isn't  normally  bright,  you 
know."  The  old  man  nodded  slowly,  and  she  con 
tinued:  "Tell  me  one  thing:  Is  Mr.  Sykes  any  sort  of 
judge  of  work  like  mine?" 

"He's  sup'rintendent  of  schools  for  this  county, 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth." 

"Yes,  but  he  won't  be  long!" 


n8        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"You  goin'  to  root  him  out,  kitten?" 

"I  certainly  am!" 

"Go  slow,  honey,  go  slow." 

"Well,  Uncle  Beck,  answer  me  straight  out  now — • 
do  you  think  Mr.  Sykes  has  any  sense?  " 

The  old  man  twirled  his  thumbs  over  each  other 
for  a  long  time  in  silence. 

"Do  you?"  demanded  the  girl  again. 

"Wa-al,  I  was  jes  tryin'  to  make  my  choice  o' 
conclusions,"  he  drawled  at  last.  "  You  see  hit's  this 
way:  Ef  Sykes  is  a  smart  man,  then  I'm  a  damn  fool, 
an'  ef  he's  a  damn  fool,  I've  got  the  sense.  I'll  let 
you  know  later  what  I  decide.  But  he  ain't  no  easy 
mark,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  don't  git  that  into  your  head. 
Only  last  week  he  kep'  a  jury  hung  for  forty-eight 
hours  an'  had  a  mistrial  declared  at  last.  He  told  me 
in  confidence  that  he  turned  down  eleven  of  the  con- 
trariest  men  he  ever  sot  his  eyes  on."  The  old  man 
waited  a  minute  for  an  answering  smile,  then  he 
reached  over  and  patted  her  gently  on  the  head: 

"Hit's  time  to  laugh,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth!" 

The  girl  smiled  obediently,  a  little  wonderingly, 
perhaps,  but  still  she  smiled.  That  much  conces 
sion  made,  she  reverted  to  her  original  contention: 

"  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  appreciate  your  advice, 
Uncle  Beck,  but  I'll  just  have  to  use  my  own  judg 
ment  in  dealing  with  Mr.  Sykes." 

The  county  superintendent  of  education  disposed 
of,  she  abruptly  revived  a  topic  which  the  old  man 
fondly  thought  he  had  quashed  as  between  them  long 
before. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         119 

"Uncle  Beck,  why  won't  anybody  ever  talk  to  me 
about  White-faced  Silas?" 

"Why — most  prob'ly  'cause  thar  ain't  nothin'  to 
say  'bout  him,  I  reckon.  What  is  it  you  partic'lar 
want  to  know?" 

"Did  he  have  a  son,  and  disown  him? — Didn't 
he?" 

"No,  he  didn't." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

"Dead  sure." 

"Well— that  can't  be  it,  then,"  musingly.  Then 
she  said,  as  if  to  herself:  "Yet  the  house  belongs  to 
the  heirs  of  the  ghost." 

"What  you  talkin'  'bout,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth?" 

"I  was  thinking  about  the  stranger  there  now." 

"  Wa-al,  you  minded  me  so  nice  'bout  Mister  Sykes, 
I'm  goin'  to  give  you  another  piece  of  advice:  Don't 
think  too  much  'bout  that '  stranger  thar  now.' " 

"Why?"  she  demanded,  with  her  eyes  steadily  on 
his  own. 

"I  don't  like  him." 

The  girl's  lips  parted  and  then  closed  again  in 
silence.  After  a  little  she  asked  abruptly:  "Uncle 
Beck,  how  did  he  get  possession  of  the  haunted 
house?" 

Was  it  consternation  that  she  surprised  in  his 
kind  old  eyes? 

"How — how  should  I  know?"  he  asked  in  return; 
but  he  kept  his  eyes  on  hers  as  he  answered:  "I  do 
know  one  thing  though,  honey,  an'  that  is  you'd 
better  let  that  old  place  and  ever 'thing  connected 


with  hit  severely  alone.  Take  my  advice  in  this  one 
thing — for  a  change." 

"Well — and  you  tell  me  this  one  thing — 'for  a 
change':  What  makes  Bud  Davis  hate  me  like  he 
does?" 

"With  my  two  eyes  on  the  purty  face  of  you, 
child,  I  couldn't  possible  guess." 

The  old  store-keeper  suddenly  found  it  necessary  to 
get  up  and  go  to  the  window  to  see  if  his  horse  was 
still  standing. 

"Dan'l  is  mighty  onruly  this  cold  weather,"  he 
explained. 

"Then  it  must  be  against  your  rules  for  Dan'l  to 
go  to  sleep,  for  that's  what  he's  doing  every  time  I 
see  him,"  declared  the  girl  with  a  quick  touch  of 
temper.  "No,  it's  just  your  way  of  putting  me  off 
whenever  I  ask  you  anything." 

The  old  man  turned  round  suddenly,  facing  her, 
but  his  back  was  to  the  strong  light. 

"Look  here,  gal,  don't  you  dispute  my  word!  In 
p'int  of  fact  now,  I've  always  answered  ever'thing 
you  ast.  You've  jes  gone  an'  got  the  notion  into 
your  head  that  thar's  a  powerful  myst'ry  'bout  that 
old  white-faced  ha'nt,  an'  thar  ain't.  That's  the 
whole  of  it!  Now,  in  the  name  o'  common  sense, 
what  is  hit  you're  a-drivin'  at?" 

"Nothing,"  firmly  and  finally. 

"Jes  what  I  'lowed!" 

But  in  a  moment  or  two  he  went  over  to  the  sulk 
ing  girl,  and,  taking  his  seat  beside  her,  put  his 
kindly  old  hand  on  her  brown  hair.  "Le's  make  up, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         121 

honey.  Your  Uncle  Beck  is  jes  plumb  weak  about 
you,  ef  he  does  have  to  scold  you  sometimes." 

The  girl  put  one  soft  little  hand  on  his  own,  and 
the  old  man  continued,  with  a  smile: 

"Speakin'  o'  quarrellin',  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  did  you 
ever  hear  'bout  the  hard  feelin's  that  was  stirred  up 
here  onct  'bout  that  coffin?" 

"Why,  what  coffin,  Uncle  Beck?" 

"The  coffin  Dilsey  Sellers  bought  for  her  step 
mother  what  was  Melissa's  second  cousin,"  said  the 
old  man,  playing  for  her  interest.  "You  see  the 
whole  trouble  was  that  Dilsey  was  a  little  too  pre 
vious,  for  the  old  lady  wasn't  good  dead,  though  she 
was  mighty  nigh  onto  hit.  Hit  was  when  the  old 
woman  was  at  her  sickest  that  Dilsey  went  to  Simp- 
kinsville  to  sell  her  cotton,  an'  up  an'  come  back 
with  the  coffin.  Hit  seems  that  Dilsey  wa'nt  so 
much  to  blame  as  you  might  think,  for  while  she  was 
in  town  she  seen  a  mighty  takin'  show-winder  whar 
they  was  offerin'  coffins  dirt-cheap,  an'  besides,  the 
store-keeper  told  her  that  thar  never  was  such  another 
cut  in  coffins  sence  the  world  begun  an'  never  would 
be  ag'in,  and  that  that  was  jes  nachully  her  last 
chance.  So  Dilsey  got  excited-like  an'  bought  one 
of  the  onery  things  an'  come  a-drivin'  home  with  hit 
in  the  waggin. 

"Wa-al,  sir,  old  Mis'  Sellers  was  the  maddest  sick 
'oman  you  ever  sot  your  two  eyes  on !  She  told  Dilsey 
right  up  an'  down  that  she  was  a-goin'  to  git  well  jes 
to  spite  her;  an'  she  riz  up  from  that  bed,  then  an' 
thar,  an'  never  went  back  to  hit  except  for  to  sleep 
at  night,  an'  a  mighty  hard  time  they  had  a-gittin' 


122         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

her  to  do  that,  at  first.  An'  ef  you'll  b'lieve  me,  she 
got  plum  well  an'  fat — so  fat  that  she  outgrowed  the 
coffin.  When  hit  got  to  that  pass,  Dilsey  stopped 
speakin'  to  her,  an'  she  had  to  go  way  over  in  Walker 
to  live  with  a  grandchild  o'  hers  by  her  first  hus 
band." 

"But  what  in  the  world  did  poor  Dilsey  do  with 
the  coffin,  Uncle  Beck?" 

"Kept  hit,  of  course.  Dilsey  ain't  rich  enough  to 
th'ow  away  seventeen  dollars  and  ninety-eight  cents. 
Wa-al,  she  didn't  have  no  place  to  put  hit  whar  hit 
wouldn't  show  hit's  bull-necked  self  an'  skeer  folks, 
so  she  slid  hit  under  the  bed  to  keep  her  dirty  clo'es 
in.  They  say  Lil — she's  the  blind  one,  you  know — 
is  might'  nigh  crazy  'bout  hits  bein'  thar  in  the  house, 
an'  thinks  she  runs  ag'in  hit  ever'  way  she  turns. 
When  Dilsey  starts  to  go  off  an'  leave  Lil  by  herself 
she  leads  her  up  to  the  bed  an'  makes  her  stoop  down 
an'  put  her  hand  on  the  coffin  to  show  her  that  hit's 
safe  outen  her  way;  but  all  the  same,  Lil  says,  Dilsey 
ain't  more'n  out  o'  hearin'  before  the  thing  gits  out 
in  some  way  an'  is  under  her  feet  ag'in." 

"Oh,  horrors!  Why  doesn't  Dilsey  throw  the 
awful  old  thing  away?  "  the  girl  asked,  aghast. 

"Why,  Dilsey  can't  afford  hit.  You  see  she's 
a-keepin'  hit,  lookin'  to  the  time  when  one  o'  the 
neighbors  will  need  hit  an'  she'll  git  her  money  back. 
But  la,  honey!  The  presence  o'  that  thar  coffin  has 
acted  like  a  course  o'  bitters  to  the  whole  passel  of 
us.  We've  been  the  wellest  bunch  you  ever  sot  eyes 
on  ever  sence  hits  arrival  amongst  us — all,  that  is, 
except  Grandma  Thaggin,  an'  she  declares  hit's  too 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        123 

short  for  her  by  a  good  three  inches,  ef  Dilsey  got 
anything  like  a  decent  fit  for  her  ma." 

"And  is  it  that  which  makes  Dilsey  so  unpopular?  " 
Mary  Elizabeth  asked. 

"Wa-al,  Dilsey  is  one  o'  them  people  that's  born 
unpop'lar,  honey,  but  of  course  this  here  coffin 
scrape  set  her  back  still  further.  Hit's  left  her  in 
a  delicate  siterwation  with  the  neighbors,  so  to  speak. 
You  see  the  people,  'specially  the  smajl-sized  ones, 
can't  help  suspicionin'  her  when  she  asts  how  they 
feel,  an'  thar  air  them  what  wouldn't  eat  a  meal  o' 
her  victuals  for  the  world." 

"Uncle  Beck,  you  don't  treat  the  poor  thing  that 
way,  I  know!" 

"Lord  no,  child,  I'm  a  good  six  inches  longer  than 
any  Sellers  I  ever  seen!" 

The  shadows  had  been  charmed  away  from  the 
deep-blue  eyes  of  the  girl,  so  the  old  man  gathered 
his  legs  together  and  rose  to  go. 

"Dan'l  is  wakin'  up,  so  I'll  have  to  be  goin', 
child." 

As  the  girl  rose  to  say  good-by  and  stood  for  a 
moment  with  both  hands  grasping  the  lapels  of  his 
overcoat,  he  took  a  tender  hold  of  each  of  her  wrists 
and  looked  deep  into  her  eyes. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,"  he  said  with  concern,  "I'm  in 
dead  earnest  'bout  this  here  school  business.  I  want 
you  to  ac'  harsher  to  them  boys — you  kin  do  it  all 
right  ef  you  jest  let  that  thar  temper  go.  An'  listen 
to  me:  I  want  you  to  make  up  to  Mister  Sykes,  you 
jest  can't  afford  to  make  a  enemy  out  o'  him!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

WHEN  John  Marshall  tethered  his  horse  to  a  sap 
ling  near  the  school-house  the  next  afternoon,  he 
found  himself  a  few  minutes  early,  for  the  children 
were  just  then  trooping  down  the  steps  and  turning 
faces  north,  east,  south,  and  west  toward  home. 
While  waiting  for  them  to  disperse,  the  man  took 
from  his  pocket  a  little  folded  paper  that  Tony  had 
delivered  to  him  the  evening  before,  and  unfolded  it 
and  read  again: 

I  hardly  hope  that  you  will  respond  to  this,  but  I  am  very 
anxious  to  see  you,  and  wish  you  would  come  to  the  school 
to-morrow  at  four  o'clock. 

MARY  ELIZABETH  DALE. 

He  refolded  and  replaced  the  note  as  the  last  tow- 
headed  urchin  decamped  down  the  big  road. 

The  teacher  had  come  to  the  door  to  see  the  chil 
dren  off,  and  now  stood  on  the  threshold  in  the  golden 
rays  of  the  declining  sun — an  all-unconscious  study 
in  the  beautiful.  The  yellow  radiance  waked  a  deep 
and  glowing  response  from  the  heavier  meshes  of 
her  dark  hair,  and  burnished  to  gold  the  crest  of 
every  glossy  wave,  the  airy  spiral  of  every  truant  curl. 
Her  delicate  lips  were  warmer  to-day,  and  warmer 
the  light  in  her  violet  eyes. 

The  poet-painter  would  have  sung  or  painted  the 

124 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         125 

spirit  incarnate  in  and  dominating  the  beautiful  self 
of  her  as  she  shaded  her  eyes  with  one  hand  and 
looked  long  and  longingly  adown  the  yellow  distance 
— looked  for  one,  only  whose  outward  seeming  she 
felt  could  ever  come  again. 

But  John  Marshall  was  neither  poet  nor  painter. 
He  was  just  a  man,  and  he  saw  with  the  eyes  of  a 
man.  A  warm  flush  overspread  his  habitually  cold 
features,  and  a  refining  something  smoothed  away 
the  suggestion  of  cruelty  which  sometimes  marred 
the  strong  lines  of  his  mouth.  As  he  now  came  out 
of  the  pine  thicket  which  had  hidden  him  from  view 
and  presented  himself  before  her,  he  looked  much 
like  the  man  with  whom  she  had  spent  many  a  hal 
cyon  afternoon  exploring  the  radiant  woodways  and 
whatever  thoughtways  a  man  and  a  maid  may  travel 
together. 

Mary  Elizabeth  did  not  extend  her  hand,  and  Mar 
shall  only  removed  his  hat  and  answered  formally  her 
own  formal  greeting  as  he  followed  her  into  the 
school-house. 

"I  was  afraid  you  wouldn't  come,"  she  said,  sign 
ing  him  to  a  chair  near  the  glowing  stove. 

"You  mean  you  knew  that  I  would." 

Mary  Elizabeth  looked  at  him  quickly,  but  his  eyes 
had  nothing  to  say  to  her.  He  stood  waiting  for  her 
to  be  seated.  When  the  two  had  taken  seats  before 
the  comfortable  fire,  the  girl  said,  but  with  very  evi 
dent  hesitation: 

"I  did  you  an  injustice  yesterday." 

Marshall  turned  and  looked  straight  into  her  eyes. 


126        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

There  was  a  question  in  his  own,  but  he  did  not  put 
it  into  words.    He  waited  for  her  to  speak  further. 

"I  didn't  know  then— that— that"— he  might 
have  helped  her,  but  he  didn't,  not  even  when  a 
pained  flush  crept  up  from  her  slender  throat,  and  big 
threatening  tears  filled  her  deep  eyes — "I  didn't 
know  then  why  you  wanted  to  buy  it!" 

The  man,  who  had  been  watching  her  every  change 
of  expression,  suddenly  leaned  forward  for  a  keen  look 
into  her  face. 

"What  do  you  know  now?"  he  asked. 

"That  you  don't  want  it  at  all  but  are  just  trying 
to  give  me  the  money  so  I  can  get  out  of  all  this." 

Something  in  her  voice  seemed  to  unnerve  him. 

"Whoever  said  that  told  a  falsehood!"  he  ex 
claimed  vehemently. 

"Then  you  told  one  yourself." 

"I  never  said  that  to  a  single  soul.  How  on  earth 
did  you  get  such  a  notion  into  your  head?" 

The  girl  had  wiped  away  the  too  imminent  tears 
and  was  making  a  brave  effort  to  meet  his  deeply 
concerned  eyes. 

"  Then  that  parrot  Tony  must  have  picked  up  what 
was  an  unconscious  exclamation  with  you,  when  he 
told  you  the  other  night  about  Mr.  Fenwick's  death 
and  about  his  not  having  left  me  anything." 

Marshall  tried  to  break  in, but  she  wouldn't  let  him. 
"And  yesterday,  after — after — I  had  so  misjudged 
you,  and  let  you  go  away,  Tony  came  in  and  told 
me  what  you  had  said — and — and  I  wrote  you  to 
come.  I — I — wanted  to  tell  you  I  was  sorry."  Her 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         127 

hands  were  over  her  face  now  but  something  shining 
dropped  from  between  her  fingers. 

The  man  watched  the  heaving  of  her  bosom  in  des 
peration.  He  put  out  his  hand  once  as  if  to  touch 
the  white  fingers  that  were  pressed  to  her  eyes,  but 
he  drew  back,  and  ended,  as  he  usually  ended  his 
tense  moods,  by  taking  a  quick  turn  up  and  down 
the  room.  When  he  had  spent  his  nervousness  he 
stopped  behind  the  bench  on  which  the  girl  was 
seated  and  leaned  over  her  with  his  arms  extended 
along  the  back  of  it  as  if  to  shelter  her. 

"Child,"  he  said,  "nothing,  nothing  in  the  world 
is  worth  your  tears.  It's  all  right — what  you  said 
to  me.  I  don't  mind  it  a  bit  now.  You  just  didn't 
understand;  and  you  don't  understand  other  things 
which  have  made  you  bitter  against  me.  But  some 
day  you  will,  and — and  then  it  will  be  all  right  be 
tween  us.  Little  girl " 

' '  Make  me  understand  now ! ' '  There  was  passion 
ate  appeal  in  her  voice  as  she  answered  him.  A  new 
mood  was  upon  her.  She  dried  her  eyes  now  and 
flung  back  the  tendril  curls  from  her  face.  She  was 
leaning  toward  him,  but  the  fading  daylight  and 
flickering  fire  rendered  uncertain  the  thing  that  was 
deepest  in  her  eyes.  "Make  me  understand."  One 
restless  little  hand  was  on  his  coat-sleeve  now,  and 
he  was  fain  to  answer  its  appeal. 

"Why,"  he  said  uncertainly,  "you  know  so  little 
of  business  methods  I'm  afraid  I  can't."  But  the 
appealing  touch  was  still  on  his  arm  and  he  had  to 
make  the  effort.  "Now  this  is  the  situation:  The 


128        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

ancestors  of  these  people  took  up  their  abode  here 
on  lands  which  belonged  to  the  Creek  Indians  but 
which  were  shortly  ceded  by  the  Creeks  to  the  gov 
ernment.  They  did  not  establish  legal  claims  to  their 
homesteads.  And,  still  without  legal  claim,  their 
descendants  have  continued  to  squat  on  the  land, 
rent-free,  and  tax-free,  vegetating  here,  and  blocking 
the  advance  of  progress.  Ten  years  ago  I  conceived 
the  project  I  explained  to  you  yesterday  of  buying 
up  the  whole  tract  from  the  natives.  I  did  not  then 
know  that  a  large  part  of  the  land  was  government 
property,  but  I  did  know,  however,  that  the  titles  to 
some  of  the  farms  I  bought  were  shaky.  I  was  will 
ing  to  risk  something  to  get  a  foothold  here,  so  I 
traded  through  my  agents  with  every  property  owner 
who  could  be  induced  to  sell,  even  buying  shaky  titles 
with  the  hope  of  ultimately  steadying  them  on  their 
legs.  This  trading  had  to  be  done  quickly,  because 
it  is  characteristic  of  the  hillite  to  take  panic  at  any 
sort  of  land  trade.  My  agents  had  their  orders  to 
buy  outright  all  that  could  be  bought,  for  the  deeds 
would  be  good  at  least  as  quitclaims,  and  would  sat 
isfy  the  people  themselves,  as  well  as  put  it  out  of 
their  power  to  balk  the  enterprise.  I  was  going  to 

straighten  out  titles  later " 

The  appealing  touch  was  removed  from  his  coat- 
sleeve,  and  the  man  seemed  to  find  it  harder  to  con 
tinue — "But  some  of  them  did  take  panic  in  spite 
of  all  our  precautions,  and  refused  point-blank  to 
sell  at  any  price.  This  man,  'Bud  Davis,'  gave  my 
agents  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  was,  together  with 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         129 

Trav  Williams,  finally  instrumental  in  frightening 
them  away.  Since  that  time  I  have  put  first  one 
agent  and  then  another  on  the  job,  but  only  to  have 
each  one  come  and  merely  take  a  look  at  the  situa 
tion  and  then  show  it  a  fair  pair  of  heels.  Lastly,  I 
came  myself.  Of  course  none  of  them  connect  me 
with  these  earlier  land  deals  as  my  name  was  kept 
out  of  them  and  they  have  never  seen  me  before." 

The  listening  girl  had  straightened  up,  and  the 
little  movement  suddenly  seemed  to  put  her  immeas 
urably  far  away  from  him.  The  winter  twilight  was 
creeping  around  them,  and  the  dying  fire  no  longer 
lighted  her  fathomless  eyes. 

"Well,"  continued  Marshall,  with  a  deep-drawn 
breath,  "I  soon  found  out  that  nearly  all  the  land  I 
had  been  unable  to  get  hold  of  was  public  land  and 
belonged  to  a  tract  that  was  open  to  entry.  I  then 
set  about  buying  up  what  is  known  as  military- 
bounty  land  warrants  and  having  them  located  on 
this  land,  paying  the  government  the  difference  in  the 
values."  And  with  a  sudden  tightening  of  the  lips 
he  concluded: 

"  I  am  paying  Uncle  Sam  and  the  warrant  holders 
for  it,  and  the  squatters  may  go  hang.  If  they  had 
taken  my  offer,  years  ago,  they  would  have  got  a  fair 
market  price  for  what  they  hadn't  the  shadow  of  a 
claim  to." 

"Make  me  understand."  It  was  not  the  trem 
bling  lips  that  had  spoken  again,  but  only  a  pleading 
gesture.  The  tone  of  the  man's  voice  had  changed 
when  he  took  up  the  story  again: 


130        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"Where  the  titles  were  good,  I  paid  all  that  they 
were  worth,  and  paid  also,  in  some  instances,  extor 
tionate  prices  for  lands  whose  titles  were  not  then 
established.  Some  of  these  tracts  I  shall  have  paid 
for  twice — once  to  the  squatter  claimant  and  once  to 
the  warrant  holders" — and  then  with  a  reversion  to 
his  old  mood  again — "but  that  was  because  I  was  a 
fool  at  first  in  my  hurry  to  gain  possession.  If  the 
Davises  and  their  ilk  get  anything  out  of  me,  I'll 
know  it." 

"Do  you  really  mean  that  you  are  going  to 
take  these  people's  homes  away  from  them?"  She 
seemed  to  speak  to  him  from  an  infinitely  remote 
distance. 

"No,  I  merely  mean  that  I  am  going  to  buy  from 
the  government  property  which  belongs  to  it,  and 
then  require  the  people  who  have  had  illegal  enjoy 
ment  of  it  for  generations  to  move  off  and  make  way 
for  civilization." 

"But  you  are  going  to  pay  them  for  their  lands?" 

"No,  I  am  going  to  pay  the  rightful  owner  for  the 
lands.  These  people  had  their  chance  to  skin  me, 
but  they  have  lost  it." 

"Yes,  but  who  is  the  rightful  owner?  Who  is  the 
rightful  owner?"  she  urged  desperately.  "In  the 
last  analysis,  doesn't  the  land  belong  to  the  one  who 
conquers  it — conquers  it  from  wild  men  and  wild 
nature?" 

"Why,"  he  replied,  looking  up  quickly  as  if  to  as 
sure  himself  that  it  was  really  this  slim  girl  creature 
that  had  challenged,  "why,  I  suppose  that  in  the  last 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         131 

analysis,  land  doesn't  really  belong  to  anybody,  but 
is  the  property  of  the  race." 

"Then  by  what  right  do  you  propose  to  usurp  this 
great  tract  of  it?" 

"By  the  right  of  the  strongest,  I  suppose." 

"  The  world — even  your  world — will  never  sanction 
such  a  principle  as  this!" 

"It  countenances  the  practice  every  day." 

"But  if  they — if  these  people — should  prove  the 
stronger?" 

"Then  the  world  would  roll  comfortably  over  to 
their  side  by  a  simple  law  of  ethical  gravitation  pe 
culiar  to  itself." 

"And  there  is  a  chance  for  them?"  The  leaping 
flame  from  a  freshly  fallen  brand  in  the  stove  an 
swered  the  spring  of  fire  to  the  eyes  of  the  girl.  She 
was  leaning  toward  Marshall  now  with  an  appeal 
that  he  could  not  withstand. 

"Yes,  there  is  one  chance,"  he  answered,  slowly. 

"What  is  it?"  her  lips  were  parted  with  expect 
ancy.  She  all  but  laid  her  hand  on  his  breast  in  her 
eagerness  for  his  reply. 

Marshall  looked  deep  into  her  eyes  for  a  moment, 
and  then  asked: 

"Is  this  honorable  warfare?" 

The  fire  died  out  of  the  beautiful  eyes  as  quickly 
as  it  had  kindled.  The  man  looked  troubled. 

"  Try  to  see  it  in  the  right  light,"  he  urged.  "  It  is 
the  history  of  all  progress  that  the  weak,  the  inef 
fectual,  go  down  before  it — it  is  their  punishment  for 
being  ineffectual.  No,  hear  me  out,"  he  protested, 


132         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

as  her  lips  parted  to  interrupt.  "  This  is  an  inevitable 
change.  These  people  must  submit  or  break  under 
it.  Those  of  them  who  have  given  way  and  accepted 
the  conditions  of  change  will  ultimately  reap  the  ben 
efits  that  follow  as  its  natural  results.  Those  who 
oppose  themselves  to  it  must  go  down  before  it." 

"But  this  is  not  'an  inevitable  change/"  the  girl 
pleaded.  "Just  suppose,  for  instance,  that  you  were 
to  agree  to  what  I  beg  of  you  and  leave  them  undis 
turbed,  to  work  out  for  themselves  a  civilization  which 
would  make,  without  breaking  them." 

But  the  man  replied:  "Even  if  I  were  to  listen  to 
you,  they  would  not  then  be  left  free,  but  would  only 
be  the  prey  of  the  first  exploiter  who  was  not  so  weak 
as  to  let  a  woman  unman  him.     See  here,  these 
people  are  not  the  owners  of  the  lands.    They  them 
selves  are  the  usurpers,  and  they  are  in  danger  of 
being  dispossessed   any   day.     Try   to   understand 
that."    If  she  made  the  effort  she  seemed  not  to  have 
succeeded,  for  she  asked  in  the  very  next  breath : 
"But  there  is  one  way  out  of  this,  you  said?" 
"Yes,  there  is  always  one  way — in  the  hills." 
The  girl  answered  his  quick,  searching  glance  with 
the  reflective,  questioning  look  of  one  who  has  failed 
to  comprehend,  and  then  the  man  took  up  his  theme 
again. 

"Look  at  the  matter  dispassionately  for  a  moment. 
These  people  have  been  here  for  generations,  and 
they  have  not  in  all  that  time  worked  out  for  them 
selves  any  degree  of  civilization  which  is  worth  while. 
You  know  that,  yourself.  Now  what  they  need,  and 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         133 

what  they  must  have,  is  a  stimulus  from  the  outside. 
If  they  are  forced  out  of  their  intrenchments  here, 
they  will  be  brought  into  direct  contact  with  modern 
progress.  A  railroad  centre,  such  as  we  purpose  to 
build  about  twenty  miles  south  of  here,  will  wake 
up  the  whole  district.  Manufacturing  plants  will  be 
erected  in  which  the  people  and  their  children  can 
find  work.  They  will  be  brought  into  contact  with 
everything  which  educates — which  civilizes.  Why, 
it  is  the  very  best  thing  that  could  happen  to 
them!" 

"  Is  this  your  motive  or  your  excuse  ? ' '  Mary  Eliza 
beth  had  a  strange  feeling  that  it  was  not  herself 
who  had  spoken,  but  that  ever-present  other. 

For  fully  a  minute,  silence  and  a  deepening  twi 
light  intervened  between  questioner  and  questioned; 
then  John  Marshall  deliberately  opened  the  door  of 
the  heater,  stirred  the  sluggish  fire  to  flame  again, 
and  turned  for  a  sharp  survey  of  the  girl's  face. 

"Is  it  your  motive  or  your  excuse?"  Mary  Eliza 
beth  echoed. 

"It  is  my  justification,"  the  man  answered  her. 

"But  your  motive?"  she  urged. 

"Have  you  any  right  to  put  that  question?" 

"If  you  haven't  the  courage  to  answer  it,  let's  say 
that  I  haven't  the  right." 

Marshall's  face  was  suddenly  overspread  with  a 
deep  flush.  "I  am  doing  it  for  the  money  that  is  hi 
it,"  he  replied,  defiantly. 

"And  the  hearts  that  you  break?" 

"Business   gives   little   consideration   to   broken 


134        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

hearts" — and  then,  with  a  smile  that  made  her 
shrink  inwardly,  "but  it  often  has  to  take  broken 
heads  into  its  accounting." 

Mary  Elizabeth  rose  to  her  feet,  and  the  visitor 
was  fain  to  follow  her  example.  There  was  a  long 
silence  between  the  two,  and  then  the  girl  said,  very 
quietly: 

"You  have  not  made  me  understand." 

"Well,  why  should  you? — Oh,  I  didn't  mean  that. 
Little  girl — little  woman — I'm  not  all  brute!  I 
meant — I  meant — good  God!  I  don't  mean  any 
thing  but  that  I  love  you!  I  love  you!  Do  you  un 
derstand  that?"  He  would  have  caught  her  to  him, 
but  the  girl  broke  away,  and  stood  trembling  before 
him  with  again  the  something  in  her  eyes  which  the 
firelight  had  not  the  power  to  interpret. 

"I  love  you,"  he  pleaded.  "And  I  want  to  save 
you  from  yourself.  I  want  to  save  you  from  the 
despair  that  your  mistaken  ideals  will  condemn  you 
to.  You  are  trying  to  fight  out  single-handed  the 
battle  of  the  ages,  child.  You  are  trying  to  settle, 
with  your  woman's  strength,  a  contest  that  involves 
on  the  two  sides  of  it  the  sum  total  of  the  fighting 
strength  of  the  race.  Give  it  up,  and  let  the  victory 
go,  as  victories  always  have  gone,  as  they  always  will 
go,  to  the  strongest.  Give  it  up,  little  girl,  and  let 
me  do  the  fighting  for  the  two  of  us.  I  love  you — 
darling,  I  love  you!  Come  to  me,  believe  in  me — 
and  trust  to  the  future  to  understand!" 

The  flickering  flame  dropped  low.  The  two  of  them 
were  face  to  face  in  the  faintly  illumined  shadow. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         135 

"Come!"  he  repeated — and  then  yet  again — 
"Come!" 

The  girl  raised  her  head  slowly  and  surrendered 
her  eyes  to  the  summoning  power  of  his  own.  She 
took  one  trembling  step  forward  in  answer  to  the  ap 
peal  of  his  outstretched  arms,  but — all  suddenly — a 
grave-eyed  memory  stepped  between. 

With  a  low  cry  Mary  Elizabeth  drew  back  and 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 

Marshall  dropped  his  arms  at  his  sides  as  if  he, 
too,  recognized  that  a  something  compelling  had  in 
tervened.  He  stood  very  still  watching  her.  After 
a  moment  or  two  of  silence  he  touched  her  on  the 
arm. 

The  girl  looked  up  in  answer.  No,  she  was  not 
crying;  the  something  in  her  eyes  that  she  had  mo 
mentarily  veiled  from  him  was  too  big  for  tears. 

The  school-house  door  opened  noisily  on  its  hinges 
and  admitted  the  long,  gaunt  form  of  Babe  Davis. 


CHAPTER  XII 

DAYLIGHT  and  moonlight  blended  so  softly,  so  per 
fectly  that  Mary  Elizabeth  could  not  have  told  which 
it  was  that  best  lighted  her  stumbling,  unassisted 
steps  as  she  followed  Babe  Davis  along  a  strange 
short-cut  home  that  evening,  leaving  Marshall  to 
pursue  a  widely  deviating  path  alone. 

There  was  light  enough  for  the  way  that  she  had 
chosen,  but  the  way  itself  was  hard,  and  was  made 
harder  still  by  the  realization  that  that  other  man 
would  have  smoothed  that  other  way  for  her  unaccus 
tomed  feet.  But  here  was  light  enough  for  her 
progress — a  mingled,  uncertain  light,  perhaps,  but 
still  enough  by  which  to  go  forward,  so  she  followed 
the  man  of  her  people. 

As  she  walked  on  now  in  silence  behind  the  tall, 
rugged  form  of  Babe  Davis,  Mary  Elizabeth  went 
over  and  over  again  in  her  mind  the  meeting  of  the 
two  men.  She  could  not  explain  it  to  herself,  for 
there  seemed  to  be  some  sort  of  understanding  be 
tween  them,  whereas  she  had  thought  them  strangers 
to  each  other. 

She  reviewed  the  meeting  in  detail  now  with  a  con 
scious  effort  to  solve  the  enigma,  recalling  the  princi 
pals  as  she  had  seen  them,  face  to  face.  She  saw 
again  the  dark  look  with  which  the  rustic  fixed  the 
other;  and  she  saw,  too,  the  level,  open,  unwaver- 

136 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         137 

ing  gaze  with  which  the  stranger  met  that  look  as 
he  went  straight  up  to  Davis — out  into  the  fullest 
light. 

John  Marshall  had  extended  his  hand  to  the  in 
truder,  she  remembered,  and  had  spoken  as  to  one 
whom  he  knew  well;  but  Babe  had  drawn  back  with 
a  growl,  while  for  an  instant  there  was  lightning- 
play  across  the  surface  of  his  obtruding  eyes. 

Then  she  herself  had  spoken  to  relieve  the  tense 
ness  of  the  situation,  and  Babe  had  explained  that 
he  came  to  take  her  home  because  it  was  getting  so 
late. 

And  then  it  was  that  she  had  made  plain  her  final 
decision  and  answered  with  one  little  sentence  all 
that  John  Marshall  had  poured  out  to  her.  She 
had  paused  a  moment  on  the  threshold  and,  looking 
back  at  him,  had  said  simply: 

"I  am  going  home.     Good-by." 

And  here  she  was — she  and  this  type  of  her  people 
— taking  the  rough  way  together  by  a  light  that  was 
uncertain  at  best. 

And  as  she  followed  she  asked:  "Babe,  why  didn't 
you  shake  hands  with  Mr.  Marshall?" 

Silence. 

"Babe,  why  didn't  you  shake  hands  with  Mr. 
Marshall?" 

"I  dunno,"  with  a  growl. 

"Babe,  do  you  know  anything  against  him?"  she 
queried. 

A  long  silence,  and  then:  "No." 

"Then  why  didn't  you  shake  hands  with  him?" 


138        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"Idunno." 

Suddenly  Babe  came  to  a  stand-still  and  slowly 
removed  his  soft  wool  hat. 

"What  is  it?"  She  came  up  beside  him  and  saw 
at  his  feet  a  little  mound  of  earth.  There  was  a 
board  standing  about  a  foot  high  at  one  end. 

"Who  is  it?"  she  changed  her  question  to. 

"My  father." 

"Why  was  he  buried  here,  Babe,  so  far  from  the 
others?"  Mary  Elizabeth  looked  away  to  where 
she  knew  the  graveyard  to  be  located,  some  three 
hundred  yards  down  the  valley. 

"He  said  for  us  to  put  him  here — his  conscience 
was  that  tender " 

"Uncle  Beck  told  me  that  he  was  one  of  the  best 
men  in  all  this  region,  Babe." 

"Yes,  yes,  he  was  good.  An'  he  was  quiet 
an'  peaceablelike,  an'  that  kind —  You  wouldn't 
a- thought  that — "  he  paused  with  his  eyes  on  the 
mound. 

"What,  Babe?" 

"He  killed  a  man.  That's  why  he  wanted  to  be 
put  here,  out  in  the  field  by  hisself." 

"Why,  Babe,  everybody  says  that  he  was  so 
gentle " 

"That  was  the  trouble.  The  other  feller  was  cal- 
culatin'  on  his  gentleness  and  taxed  hit  a  little  too 
fur." 

"What  are  all  these  rocks  for?"  she  asked,  retreat 
ing  from  a  subject  that  seemed  too  sacred. 

"I  been  fetchin'  'em  here  in  my  wheelborror,  from 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         139 

the  cave,  to  build  a  wall  about  hit  so  nothin'  can't 
tech  hit.  I  can't  stand  him  lyin'  out  like  this.  You 
see,  ef  I  wall  hit  in  good  an'  strong,  thar  ain't  nothin' 
can  happen  to  hit." 

"  Unless  the  waters  cover  it ! "  the  girl's  sympathetic 
heart  cried  out  within  her. 

Tired  from  her  rough  tramp,  Mary  Elizabeth  sat 
down  on  one  of  the  big  rocks  that  he  had  brought  to 
protect  his  dead  from  desecration,  and  Babe  fol 
lowed  her  example. 

And  there  beside  the  grave  of  the  man  whose 
patience  had  been  taxed  once  a  little  too  far,  the  girl 
asked: 

"Babe,  how  would  you  like  to  move  away  from 
here?" 

"I  ain't  never  to  find  out  how  I'd  like  hit." 

"You  are  never  going?" 

"No." 

"Have  you  ever  thought  how  you  would  like  living 
in  a  city  and  working  in  a  big  factory,  or  something 
like  that?" 

"Wa-al,  he  tried  hit  onct,"  and  he  looked  at  his 
father's  grave  again,  "an'  they  ground  the  life  and 
spent  outen  him — them  what  was  on  top — an'  all 
but  starved  him.  So  he  come  back  here  an'  went  to 
work  on  his  own  land  ag'in  what  his  father  had  left 
to  him,  an'  his  father  had  left  him" 

"And  he  loved  his  land  and  took  a  pride  in  owning 
it,  and  in  the  fact  that  his  father  had  owned  it  before 
him?"  the  girl  questioned,  eagerly,  "and  it  was  like 
a  part  of  himself,  and  stood  for  his  manhood — his 
independence?  " 


140        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  sluggish  native  fired  at  her  quick  sympathy, 
and  a  deep  emotion  caused  his  scraggy  throat  to  fill 
as  he  answered: 

"He  used  to  say  that  thar  weren't  no  other  way 
for  a  man  to  be  a  man!  What's  the  matter,  Ma'y 
'Lizbeth?" 

"Oh,  nothing." 

The  next  moment  a  loose  stone,  unsettled  from 
its  position,  rolled  down  from  the  heap  and  onto  the 
soft  turf  that  covered  the  grave.  Babe  got  up  in 
stantly  to  remove  the  desecrating  bowlder,  and  for 
some  minutes  busied  himself  piling  up  the  stones  that 
lay  scattered  about. 

The  light  was  clearer  now.  What  John  Marshall 
had  called  the  prettiest  proposition  he  had  ever  got 
his  hands  on — that  peaceful  mountain  valley — lay 
under  the  moonlight,  a  stretch  of  darkling,  shimmer 
ing  silver,  with  never  a  suggestion  of  tragedy  in  all 
its  length  and  breadth.  A  little  around  the  slope 
yonder  slept  the  men  who  had  conquered  the  wil 
derness;  and  here  before  her,  lifting  great  rocks 
into  place  by  the  giant  strength  of  his  gnarled  and 
knotted  muscles,  was  the  scion  of  their  hardihood — 
putting  forth  all  the  rugged  physical  strength  that 
was  his,  for  the  sake  of  a  sentiment  that  burned 
within  him. 

And  as  Mary  Elizabeth  watched  the  crude  strength 
of  the  man — as  she  read  again,  by  the  soft  but  cer 
tain  light  of  the  moon  now  high  in  the  heavens,  the 
look  of  lofty  independence  that  illumined  his  gro 
tesque  features — she  realized,  all  too  poignantly,  that 
there  was  no  other  way  for  this  man  to  be  a  man. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         141 

For  here  only  were  industrial  foes  such  as  he  could 
grapple  with  and  conquer;  here  only,  for  him,  the 
exercise  of  his  masculine,  dominant  spirit  of  inde 
pendence;  here  the  honored  footprints  of  his  fore 
fathers;  and  here  his  altar  fires. 

But  this  man  must  go  down;  and  John  Marshall 
would  say  that  it  was  his  punishment  for  being  "in 
effectual."  "  Ineffectual ! "  the  phrase  so  almost  con 
vincing,  when  fresh  from  the  lips  that  were  touched 
with  cruelty,  now  re-echoed  in  the  heart  of  the  girl 
with  a  different  ring.  "Ineffectual"  to  what  end? 
Perhaps  to  John  Marshall's  purpose  of  crushing  the 
many  that  he  and  his  favored  few  might  reap  wealth 
and  power;  but  not  ineffectual  here  in  fulfilling 
the  divine  purpose,  the  up-building  of — "charac 
ter"!  The  last  word  seemed  to  be  supplied  to  her 
from  without  herself.  It  was  as  if  he  had  said  it — 
that  memory  of  a  man! 

And  he  had  said  it.  She  remembered  now  the 
words  that  he  had  spoken  to  her  so  many,  many 
months  ago:  "Not  wealth,  nor  power,  nor  culture, 
not  religious  conviction  itself  is  worth  while  except 
as  it  reacts  on  the  character  of  its  possessor." 

When  Babe  Davis  came  back  and  resumed  his  seat 
on  the  bowlder  near  her,  he  had  suddenly  become  to 
her  at  once  the  embodiment  of  the  cause  which  she 
was  so  fiercely  championing,  and  the  archetype  of  the 
people  whom  it  had  become  hers  to  defend.  The 
disaster  which  she  knew  this  sweeping  away  of  the 
old  order  would  wreak  in  the  spirit  of  this  man,  was 
magnified  by  its  imminent  nearness  into  disaster  to 


142         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

all  of  the  community  who  would  be  subjected  to  the 
change;  and  his  native  nobility  of  character,  by  a 
like  nearness  of  perspective,  became  to  her  represen 
tative  of  all  her  people,  and  the  natural,  typical 
product  of  the  life  they  lived.  So  when  the  big, 
rough,  but  nobly  gentle  man  took  his  seat — a  little 
below  her  this  time — a  little  nearer  to  her  feet — the 
girl  had  accepted  the  cup  that  seemed  pressed  to 
her  lips,  and  had  determined  to  drink  it  to  whatever 
dregs  of  heart-break  to  herself  lay  in  the  last  drops 
of  it. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,"  said  her  companion,  in  the  tone 
of  one  recalling  another  from  sleep,  "  Ma'y  'Lizbeth?  " 

"Yes,  Babe." 

"Be  you  a-goin'  to  marry  him?" 

"No!" — and  then  again  and  more  emphatically, 
"No!" 

"For  true,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth?" 

"Don't  we  always  speak  the  truth  to  each  other, 
Babe?"  Mary  Elizabeth  did  not  see  the  deep  swell 
of  his  rugged  breast;  she  only  noted  an  added  hesi 
tation  in  his  words  as  he  asked  again: 

"How  long  air  you  goin'  to  live  here?" 

"Always." 

"I'm  mighty  glad!"  was  the  simple  answer,  but 
the  timbre  of  his  deep,  rough  voice  said:  "Thank 
God!"  When  he  spoke  again  it  was  to  ask,  but  still 
hesitatingly: 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  how  long  did  you  go  to  school?" 

"About  ten  years  in  all.  But  I  didn't  study  like 
I  should  have  done.  Why?  " 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         143 

"Could  you  a-learned  what  thai  is  in  books 
quicker,  ef  you  had  a-studied?" 

"What  I  did  learn,  yes,  in  half  the  time." 

"Wa-al,  you  was  little,  most  of  the  time.  Could 
anybody  what  started  with  grown-up  sense  and 
worked  awful  hard  learn  hit  all — all  what  you  know 
— ra-al  soon?" 

"Why,  yes,  Babe,  I  don't  know  much." 

"I'm  mighty  glad." 

"You  are  glad  I  don't  know  much?" 

"No,  I'm  glad  I  kin  learn  the  books  quick." 

"Oh,  Babe,  do  you  want  to  study?  Do  you  want 
me  to  teach  you?" 

"That'd  depend." 

"Depend?" 

Mary  Elizabeth  saw  his  great  hand  touch  timidly 
and  reverently  the  hem  of  her  dress,  and  then  he 
said,  this  time  with  a  mighty  struggle: 

"I— I— love  you." 

"Why,  Babe!" 

"Yes,  I  do,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  I  'clare  'fore  God  I  do." 

"But,  Babe " 

"I'll  learn  all  the  books,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  I'll  learn 
'em  ever'  one!  An'  hit  won't  make  no  diff'rence 
'tall  to  me  'bout  your  people  bein' — "  The  man 
caught  himself  abruptly  and  stopped. 

"My  people  being  what,  Babe?" 

"'Bout  your  people — bein' — 'bout  your  people 
bein' — oh,  'bout  'em  all  bein'  dead,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth. 
Hit  wouldn't  make  no  diff'rence  to  me  'tall.  An' 
I'd " 


144        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"But,  Babe,  let  me  tell  --  " 

"Ain't  we  the  same  kind  o'  folks?  Ain't  we  had 
the  same  bornin'  here?  "  he  interrupted,  feverishly. 

"Yes,  Babe,  but  -  " 

"But  what?" 

"I  just  couldn't." 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  I'll  fetch  all  the  water  for  you." 

"Oh,  I  couldn't!" 

"This  is  mine,"  he  urged,  comprehending  in  a 
proud  gesture  the  wide  clearing  in  which  they  were; 
"I'd  build  you  a  house  with  my  own  hands  on  the 
land  that  my  father  worked,  and  his  father  before 
him." 

"No,  no,  Babe!" 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  I  wouldn't  let  ma  an'  Bud  set 
they  foot  on  the  place,  ef  you  didn't  want  'em 
to." 


"You  think  you  couldn't  now,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  but 
after  you'd  done  larnt  me  the  books  hit  would  all  be 
even  up  between  us  —  an'  —  an'  —  mebbe  -  " 

"Babe,"  she  said,  with  a  sudden  fierce  determining, 
"Babe,  you  must  give  up  this  thought  for  always. 
I  can't  marry  anybody.  I  am  going  to  devote  my 
life  to  doing  the  thing  that  I  am  here  for.  I  am 
going  to  do  my  duty  by  my  people." 

The  girl  started.  Was  it  a  hoarse,  smothered  sob 
that  she  heard  as  he  turned  away?  She  laid  both 
hands  on  his  shoulder.  "Babe,"  she  said  tenderly. 

But  he  drew  away  from  the  touch  of  her  hands. 
"I  know  what  it  is,"  he  said,  hoarsely;  "you  think  I 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         145 

can't  learn  books!"  He  got  up  and  strode  away 
proudly,  stopping  shortly  with  arms  folded,  but  with 
his  head  bowed.  Mary  Elizabeth  followed  him  with 
hurried  steps.  She  went  straight  up  to  him  and 
placed  both  hands  on  his  arm. 

"Babe,"  she  said,  pleadingly,  "it  isn't  that,  believe 
me.  You  are  the  best  and  noblest  man  I  know, 
and  you  have  the  wisdom  that  counts  the  most.  It 
isn't  that,  Babe.  It  is — "  in  his  eyes  still  was  hurt 
beyond  expressing,  and  the  girl  said,  with  sudden 
desperation,  "it's  because  my  own  heart  is  broken. 
I  love  John  Marshall — and — I  have  had  to  give  him 
up." 

Dazed  at  first,  and  almost  unhearing,  the  man  re 
garded  her  for  a  moment  with  an  expression  in  the 
density  of  which  seemed  to  mingle  flickerings  of 
mad  triumph  and  a  something  more  ignoble  still;  and 
then  an  overwhelming  tenderness,  before  which  all 
thought  of  self  gave  way,  swept  over  his  rugged  face. 
He  was  not  awkward  or  self-conscious  now  as  he 
took  both  her  cold  little  hands  in  his  own  in  self- 
forgetful  pity. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  honey,  what's  the  trouble? 
Don't  he  love  you  yet?" 

"Yes,  he  loves  me — in  his  way." 

The  man  kindled  to  fierceness  in  the  space  of  a 
moment:  "An'  ain't  his  way  the  honest  way?"  he 
demanded. 

"Oh,  yes,  yes!  It's  not  that.  It's  in  his  own 
supremely  selfish  way.  Not  like  you,  Babe,  not  like 
you!"  The  .moonlight  did  not  show  the  sudden 


146        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

rebound  to  hope  in  the  eyes  of  him  as  he  answered, 
eagerly: 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  ef  you  would  only  let  me  show 
you  how  much 

But  the  girl  stopped  him.  "You  can  show  me 
how  much,  Babe,  by  believing  what  I  tell  you,  and 
by  being  to  me  what  you  have  been  from  the  first, 
my  trusted  friend.  Oh,  Babe,  I  need  you!  I  need 
you  as  you  were  to  me  before.  The  others  here  hate 
me,  and  they  are  making  it  cruelly  hard  for  me — oh, 
you  don't  know  how  much  I  need  a,  friend!" 

The  strong  grasp  on  her  fingers  grew  infinitely 
tender.  "You've  got  one,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  right  here. 
I  ain't  never  goin'  to  pester  you,  honey,  no  more.  I 
ain't  never  goin'  to  think  about  myse'f  ag'in.  I'm 
goin'  to  think  about  you — I'm  goin'  to  think  about 
you." 

The  moon  still  afforded  sufficient,  if  uncertain, 
light  to  guide  their  footsteps  as  they  made  their  way 
home.  And  by  the  uncertain  inner  light  that  was 
hers  as  they  went,  Mary  Elizabeth  thought  out  the 
problem  before  her  to  its  bitter  conclusion : 

John  Marshall  was  a  wicked  man,  and  she  had 
been  wicked  to  treat  with  him  for  even  a  minute,  to 
listen  to  his  smooth  "business"  sophistries.  She 
owed  it  to  her  people  never  again  to  listen  to  his 
specious  arguments  against  their  interests;  she  owed 
it  to  herself  never  again  to  allow  him  to  profane  to 
her  the  sacred  name  of  love  by  protestations  of  his 
wholly  selfish  passion. 

The  soft  light  of  the  waning  moon  rested  upon 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         147 

the  girl's  uplifted  countenance  like  a  benediction  as 
she  finally  determined  to  break  off  all  intercourse 
with  John  Marshall,  now  and  forever;  but  a  little 
later,  the  one  board  shutter  of  the  porch-room  had 
been  drawn  close,  and  Mary  Elizabeth  was  face 
downward  in  the  black  dark. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  next  evening,  when  the  lights  blended  to 
gether  again,  hiding  the  margin  where  day  slips  into 
night,  John  Marshall  was  far  from  the  little  school- 
house  where  Mary  Elizabeth  had  bidden  him  "good- 
by,"  and  well  out  of  the  life  of  which  it  was  the 
centre.  He  had  ridden  hard  for  the  last  two  hours, 
but  now,  his  journey  being  practically  accomplished, 
he  reined  his  horse  into  a  walk,  and  relaxed  his  own 
nerve  tension. 

The  man  was  thinking — thinking  of  a  certain  scene, 
in  a  certain  little  school-room,  where,  between  the 
lights,  a  girl  with  wonderful  eyes  had  all  but  come  to 
his  arms.  Yes,  he  could  have  sworn  to  it !  And  then 
something  had  come  between  them,  and  she  had 
dropped  back  and  covered  her  eyes.  And  he  had 
not  failed  to  catch  the  significance  of  her  parting 
words  as  she  paused  on  the  threshold  and  looked 
back:  "I  am  going  home.  Good-by." 

Could  he  have  been  mistaken  about  that  little 
impulse  forward?  Had  she  really  almost  come  to 
him,  or  had  the  uncertain  light  only  betrayed  the 
fierce  hope  that  burned  within  him?  Who  could 
say? 

That  little  note  of  three  lines  which  was  now  safely 
stowed  away  in  his  innermost  pocket — that  brief 
answer  to  an  impassioned  letter  he  had  sent  her 

148 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         149 

almost  with  the  coming  light — he  repudiated  as  her 
reply.  It  was  the  girl's  fierce  loyalty,  her  fanatical 
idealism  that  had  dictated:  "I  am  grateful  to  you 
for  the  friendship  you  have  given  me  in  the  past, 
but  you  must  understand  that  for  the  future  we  are 
enemies."  The  real  self  of  the  girl,  the  woman  with 
the  warm  light  in  her  eyes  and  the  tender  curves 
about  her  perfect  mouth,  the  wonderfully  appealing 
creature  that  he  had  surprised  in  rare  moments,  had 
had  no  part  in  the  penning  of  those  lines!  He  was 
sure  of  it.  Then  why  take  that  as  his  answer? 

The  sudden,  determined  setting  of  his  mouth  was 
accompanied  by  a  stinging  cut  to  his  mount,  and  the 
next  moment  he  was  riding  hard  toward  his  objective. 

A  few  rods  more,  and  he  was  in  sight  of  the  camp- 
fires  of  the  men  who  were  laying  the  foundations  for 
his  model  city.  At  first  glimpse  of  the  winking  lights 
from  the  dim  distance,  the  whole  man  changed.  A 
fire,  that  had  in  it  no  part  of  tenderness  nor  yet  of 
passion,  suddenly  swept  through  his  veins.  Some 
thing  big  possessed  him — something  so  big  that  for 
the  moment  it  left  no  space  for  any  other  feeling 
whatsoever — something  which  had  in  it  the  primal 
love  for  adventure  and  exploration,  the  wild  joy  of 
discovery,  and  the  all-conquering,  masculine  passion 
for  creating,  for  achieving. 

He  was  down  in  the  plains  now,  nearly  twenty 
miles  south  of  the  little  mountain  cup  known  as 
"Bullus  Valley" — down  where  two  railroads,  shortly 
to  be  built,  were  to  cross  a  grand-trunk  line  long  in 
operation;  down  where  "the  interests"  were  already 


150        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

building  a  three-million-dollar  steel  plant,  and  cotton 
mills  of  gigantic  proportions;  down  where  he,  John 
Marshall,  by  the  prophetic  sense  that  had  been 
vouchsafed  to  him,  had  scooped  the  fallow  acres  for 
a  song,  and  with  a  company  of  other  daring  ex 
ploiters  was  now  building,  right  under  the  noses  of 
the  interests,  a  model  city  to  be  the  habitat  of  their 
several  thousand  employees.  And  never  yet  had 
such  a  city  been  builded,  for  it  was  to  be  a  city  ready- 
made!  There  were  to  be  ready-made  streets;  ready- 
made  parks  and  public  squares  and  civic  centres; 
ready-made  schools;  ready-made  homes;  ready- 
made  car  lines,  banks,  stores;  and,  thanks  to  Mar 
shall  again,  minor  industries,  also  ready-made. 

Verily  something  big  possessed  him  as  he  rode  hard 
toward  the  accomplishment  of  his  purpose!  His 
purpose — what  was  it?  When  the  only  woman  in 
his  world  had  challenged  him  to  put  that  purpose 
into  words,  his  powers  of  interpretation  had  failed 
him,  for  there  was  no  language  common  between 
them  that  was  adequate  to  express  to  a  woman  of 
her  type  the  moving  spirit  of  a  man  of  his.  So,  in 
sheer  defiance,  he  had  answered  her  in  the  phrasing 
with  which  the  "rigid  righteous"  had  already  damned 
the  motives  of  his  kind:  "For  the  money  that  is  in 
it."  And  he  had  lied. 

But  he  did  not  know  that  he  had  lied,  or,  rather, 
he  knew  it  only  subconsciously.  Because  he  was 
keenly  conscious  of  a  lack  in  his  scheme  of  a  moral, 
or  a  sentimental,  purpose  when  he  felt  that  she  was 
probing  him  for  such,  he  had  swung  to  the  other 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         151 

extreme  in  his  statement — possibly  through  the  in 
fluence  of  a  strong  mental  suggestion  from  the  woman 
herself  to  whom  everything  was  either  positively 
good  or  positively  bad. 

He  ought  to  have  known  himself  well  enough  to 
realize  that  he  did  not  care  for  the  wealth  which  he 
had  already  accumulated,  that  he  even  despised  the 
sordid  power  which  it  bought  him  among  his  own. 
He  ought  to  have  known  himself  well  enough  to 
realize  that  that  force  which  made  him,  and  others 
like  him,  often  brave  even  conscience  for  the  sake  of 
gigantic  achievement,  was  the  same  force  that  had 
sent  Columbus  following  the  setting  sun  across  a 
trackless  ocean  to  blaze  a  way  for  all  that  host  of 
big,  brave  men  that  were  to  follow  and  slay  and 
seize  and  build! 

And  oh,  the  glory  of  that  building!  The  building 
of  huge  and  powerful  cities,  the  building  of  colossal 
fortunes,  the  building  of  gigantic  business  schemes, 
the  building  of  vast  political  influences!  What  mat 
ter  the  cost  in  money,  in  men,  and  in  the  charac 
ters  of  men! 

John  Marshall  ought  to  have  known  that  he  was 
the  average  American  slightly  enlarged.  He  ought 
to  have  known  that,  superadded  to  the  average 
American's  ruling  passion  to  get  the  better  of  some 
body  somehow,  he  had  an  extra  touch  of  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  spirit  of  pioneer  achievement,  but  with  it  a 
lofty  scorn  of  what  that  spirit  brought  beyond  the 
very  joy  of  achieving.  He  ought  to  have  realized 
that  to  his  slight  enlargement  over  the  type  was  due 


152         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

the  fact  that  he  could  see  farther  than  the  average — 
that  he  had  what  men  commonly  call  "vision,"  and 
with  it  the  unconquerable  restlessness  to  hurry  on  to 
the  possibility  sighted  beyond. 

If  John  Marshall  had  ever  held  in  leash  that  rest 
lessness  long  enough  to  come  face  to  face  with  him 
self  and  see  what  manner  of  man  he  was,  he  might 
better  have  answered  the  challenge  of  the  one  woman 
in  his  world.  Instead  of  saying  to  her  only,  "I  am 
doing  it  for  the  money  that  is  in  it,"  he  might  have 
added,  "and  for  the  striving  that  is  in  it,  for  the  joy 
of  achieving  that  is  in  it.  I  am  doing  it  in  answer 
to  the  age-old  spirit  of  the  conqueror  that  is  within 
me.  It  is  my  way  of  being  a  man." 

And  though  the  awakened  conscience  of  the  woman 
would  have  sat  in  judgment  and  still  condemned, 
the  sleeping  instinct  in  the  depths  of  her  nature 
would  have  stirred  in  sympathy;  for,  by  the  mystery 
of  life  itself,  there  is  no  one  quality  in  the  man  that 
so  unfailingly,  so  irresistibly,  appeals  to  the  woman 
as  that  quality  which,  for  want  of  a  better  term, 
we  call  "force." 

As  John  Marshall  now  neared  the  maze  of  unfilled 
sewer-trenches,  streets  in  process  of  asphalting,  hills 
being  razed,  and  hollows  being  filled,  upon  which 
rose,  complete  before  his  mind's  eye,  the  city  of  his 
hope,  a  summons  came  to  him  along  the  wind  that 
the  man  within  him  leaped  to  obey.  The  smell  of 
fried  bacon  on  the  cool,  crisp  air  of  evening  announced 
that  supper  was  nearly  ready  at  the  camp,  and  the 
boys  would  soon  be  falling  to.  Selim  was  dead  tired, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         153 

but  he  was  fain  to  respond  to  the  urging  of  the 
savagely  hungry  man  who  bestrode  him,  and  the 
two  came  into  camp  with  a  swing  shortly  thereafter. 

Supper  was  not  ready,  after  all,  so  Marshall  put 
in  the  time  reviewing  the  ground — asking  questions, 
giving  orders,  and  commending  and  condemning, 
alike  with  a  hearty  promptness.  Foremen  were  in 
terviewed  at  length,  and  he  had  a  word  or  two  with 
even  the  humblest  negro  laborer. 

His  advent  was  the  signal  for  a  general  thrill  of 
interest  throughout  the  camp.  "The  Boss"  was  a 
man  feared  and  respected  by  his  inferiors,  and  cor 
dially  liked  by  his  equals  for  something  within  him 
which,  brutally  put,  was  nothing  more  nor  less  than 
a  sublime  faith  in  himself.  The  world  took  him  at 
his  own  evaluation  of  himself  as  the  world  takes 
always  men  of  his  type. 

The  ground  had  been  pretty  thoroughly  reviewed 
by  Marshall  by  the  time  supper  was  definitely  an 
nounced,  and  he  carried  to  the  long  board,  which 
was  surrounded  by  thirty  other  hungry  men,  an  ap 
petite  unlessened  by  any  disappointment  over  what 
the  day  had  wrought. 

At  table  a  surprise  had  been  arranged  for  him;  and, 
all  unknowing,  he  took  the  place  assigned  him  with 
out  a  glance  at  his  nearest  neighbor.  When  a  wait 
ing  negro  pulled  out  a  stool  for  him,  he  promptly 
occupied  it  and  stabbed  a  slice  of  bacon  through 
and  through  with  his  fork  before  he  realized  that  the 
man  to  his  right  was  laughing  at  him. 

" Bearing!"  and  the  fork  dropped  from  Marshall's 


154        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

grasp  as  he  shot  out  his  hand.  "Where  in  the  devil 
did  you  come  from?  By  Jove,  this  is  a  surprise! 
Howdy,  howdy!" 

"Why,  Doc  and  I — there's  Doc  over  there  on  the 
other  side  of  you — came  up  for  a  fishing  spree." 

Marshall  was  already  shaking  the  hand  of  the 
man  on  his  left  with  a  boyish  exuberance  that  awak 
ened  surprise  in  the  men  around  the  table,  and  caused 
the  gray-haired  patriarch  of  the  engineering  corps 
who  occupied  the  head  of  the  board  to  remark: 

"John,  makes  you  think  of  old  times,  don't  it? 
Shall  we  let  'em  loaf  around  here  and  eat  up  our 
victuals?" 

"Provided  they've  left  their  paints  and  pills  at 
home-,  Major,"  laughed  Marshall. 

"But  they  haven't,"  declared  the  old  man.  "The 
doctor  there  has  only  just  now  been  practising  on 
one  of  the  best  drivers  in  camp." 

"White  or  black?"  demanded  Marshall. 

"Black." 

"Oh,  well,  one  nigger  more  or  less  doesn't  count," 
declared  Marshall,  and  the  darkeys  who  were  hurry 
ing  to  and  fro  in  waiting  laughed  immoderately. 

During  all  the  conversation,  and  furnishing  a  me 
lodious  accompaniment  to  it,  there  floated  into  the 
tent  from  a  little  distance  the  sound  of  singing. 
The  negroes  not  in  attendance  on  the  table  were 
gathered  together  in  a  group — and  wherever  there's 
a  group  of  darkeys,  there's  apt  to  be  music  too. 

"Listen!"  said  the  white-haired  engineer.  "They 
are  improvising."  And  he  turned  to  the  visitor: 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         155 

"That's  their  way  of  telling  us  what  they  think  of 
us.  They  give  us  ginger-blue  sometimes."  Every 
body  paused  a  moment  to  listen,  and  there  floated  in 
to  them: 

"  T  I'd  a-knowed  de  boss  was  so  mean, 
I  never  would  a-left  Saint  Augustine!" 

"You,  Marshall!  And  your  brag  Florida  niggers 
at  that!"  a  man  across  the  board  exclaimed,  and  they 
all  shouted  with  laughter,  Marshall  not  less  heartily 
than  the  others. 

"John,"  said  the  Major,  when  the  song  of  the  sati 
rists  had  died  away,  "I'm  thinking  about  turning  you 
over  to  the  doctor." 

"What's  the  matter  with  me,  please?"  demanded 
Marshall. 

"  That's  what  I  want  him  to  find  out.  Doctor,"  he 
continued  to  the  new-comer  on  Marshall's  left, 
"something's  wrong  with  John's  insides — want  you 
to  look  into  the  subject." 

"  From  the  supper  he's  laying  away,  I'd  judge  that 
your  statement  is  slightly  premature,"  laughed  the 
young  physician,  "but  what's  got  into  John  that " 

"This  among  other  things — we  order  supplies  for 
him  sometimes — "  said  the  Major,  stopping  him 
with  a  gesture.  Then  he  proceeded  to  read  from  a 
paper  that  he  had  taken  from  his  pocket  and  un 
folded: 

"'Saturday,  the  seventh,  five  pounds  chocolates; 
five  pounds  crystallized  fruit.'  'Saturday,  the  four 
teenth,  two  three-pound  boxes  best  mixed  candies.' 


156        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

'Saturday,  the  twenty-first,  three  pounds  candied 
violets — '"  the  rest  of  the  list  was  lost  in  a  shout  of 
laughter  which,  dying  away,  left  the  Major  explain 
ing: 

"Marshall  gets  his  fancy  groceries  through  us,  and 
that's  a  fair  sample  of  his  ordering  for  the  last  four 
or  five  months.  If  there  ain't  something  the  matter 
— in  one  place  or  another — with  the  insides  of  the 
man  who  runs  a  menu  like  that,  then  I'm  no  fit  judge 
of  how  to  feed  men,  and  you'd  better  turn  the  com 
missary  over  to  somebody  that  knows  the  business." 

The  group  rose,  led  by  Marshall,  who  had  turned 
a  bronze  red  but  was  laughing  with  the  others. 
For  some  minutes  there  was  considerable  confusion 
in  clearing  off  the  supper  things,  dragging  away  the 
tables  bodily,  and  rearranging  the  camp-stools. 

The  big  canopy  tent  under  which  they  had  eaten 
usually  served  as  mess-hall  and  general  sitting- 
room,  too,  and  as  soon  as  the  supper  dishes  were 
cleared  away,  the  men  drifted  together  in  groups  for 
conversation.  Marshall  and  the  two  new-comers, 
together  with  the  patriarch  and  a  bottle-nosed  man 
whom  they  addressed  as  "Horton,"  formed  a  centre 
round  which  the  others  disposed  themselves.  Dear- 
ing  had  produced  a  slip  of  paper  from  somewhere, 
and  was  seemingly  idly  marking  on  it  as  they  talked. 

In  a  little  while  joke  and  badinage  evolved  into 
argument,  and  argument  at  length  subsided  into  rem 
iniscence,  led  by  the  loquacious  Horton.  The  group 
gradually  grew  more  unified  and  gathered  closer 
around  a  little  table  that  had  been  placed  in  their 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         157 

midst  to  hold  the  cigars  and  liquors.  Horton  was 
telling  them  about  John  Marshall's  daring  scheme  in 
the  hills,  and  was  describing  the  neighborhood  of 
"Bullus"  Valley  so  graphically,  that  one  young 
fellow  interrupted  with: 

"How  do  you  know  what  it  looks  like?" 

"How  do  I  know?"  said  Horton,  taking  a  new 
lease  on  the  general  attention.  "Why,  I  camped  on 
the  trail  of  a  holding  up  there  once — but  I  camped 
off  again!  That  was  how  Marshall,  here,  first  got 
the  suggestion  of  his  big  reservoir  scheme.  I  was 
describing  the  peculiar  topography  of  the  country  to 
him,  years  ago,  before  he  got  onto  this  other  idea 
here,  and  he  jumped  at  once  to  the  conclusion  that 
he  would  turn  the  whole  valley  into  a  reservoir  to 
furnish  some  place  somewhere  with  electric  power." 

"Let's  see,  that  was  ten  brief  years  ago,  wasn't 
it?"  laughed  Bearing,  between  pencil  strokes.  One 
of  the  surprises  to  the  camp  in  the  new-comer  was 
that  he  was  not  at  all  timid  about  prodding  the 
rather- to-be-feared  Marshall.  But  when  the  quick 
tempered  leader  only  grinned  at  the  dig,  the  listen 
ers  were  distinctly  disappointed,  and  one  of  them 
said  to  the  first  speaker: 

"Tell  us  how  you  came  to  'camp  off'  your  trail, 
Horton." 

Marshall,  who  was  sitting  directly  across  the  little 
pine  table  from  where  Fred  Bearing,  to  his  certain 
intuitive  guess,  was  carefully  sketching  Horton's 
bottle-nose  on  the  leaf  of  a  note-book,  looked  up 
with  interest.  He  had  never  heard  the  details  of 


158        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Morton's  trouble  in  the  mountain,  and  he  now  felt 
a  sudden  personal  interest  in  them  for  reasons  of  his 
own. 

"Well,"  said  the  man  appealed  to,  and  he  liked  to 
hear  himself  talk,  "first  one  disagreeable  little  thing 
and  then  another  happened,  but  I  passed  them  all 
over  till,  one  unusually  dark  night,  a  party  of  neigh 
borly  fellows  dropped  around  to  our  place  and 
hanged  the  man  I  was  bunking  with." 

"Good  God!"  Marshall  burst  out  inadvertently, 
and  the  crowd  shouted  with  laughter  again.  The 
doctor  reached  across  the  table  with  a  show  of  feel 
ing  Marshall's  pulse,  but  was  warned  off  by  a  savage 
gesture;  but  the  patriarch  presumed  on  a  friendship 
of  long  standing  with: 

"Johnny,  my  boy,  you'll  never  make  it!  I'm  just 
living  to  see  you  come  flying  down  Swindle  Hill  in 
the  gray  dawn  some  morning,  the  wreck  and  ruin 
of  your  beautiful  scheme  behind  you,  with  only  your 
faithful  pajamas  to  bear  you  company!" 

When  the  roar  at  his  expense  had  somewhat  abated, 
Marshall  rallied  to  the  charge  rather  hotly:  "Well, 
if  you  ever  see  me  coming  down  Swindle  Hill  in  the 
gray  dawn,  I'll  not  have  on  pajamas " 

"Sure,  and  why  should  a  man's  progress  be  im 
peded  when  he  is  in  such  a  devil  of  a  hurry!  Just 
take  'em  off,  John,  the  country's  only  sparsely  set 
tled  hi  between,  and,  besides,  you're  likely  to  get 
an  unusually  early  start " 

"Damn  it!"  Marshall's  fist  split  the  frail  pine 
table  in  descending,  but  the  next  moment  he  joined 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         159 

in  the  general  laugh.  "Look  here,  boys,"  he  ex 
claimed  vehemently,  "I'm  in  this  thing  to  win  or 
die  in  the  attempt!  Nothing  on  earth  is  going  to 
stop  me  but  a  rifle  ball  put  where  it  will  do  the  most 
harm.  When  you  see  me  coming  down  that  hill  in 
defeat  you  may  get  ready  to  plant  me,  for  I'll  be  a 
dead  one." 

"I  bid  to  be  honorary  pall-bearer — "  began  one 
young  fellow,  but  he  was  interrupted  by  another 
with: 

"'Honorary,'  the  mischief!  You've  got  to  help 
tote  the  box!" 

Bearing,  who  had  risen  from  his  seat  with  a 
troubled  expression  in  his  eyes,  silenced  the  young 
sters  with  a  quick  look,  and  then  drifted  into  a  chair 
beside  the  patriarch.  The  men  were  already  talking 
of  other  things,  and  Bearing  seized  the  opportunity 
to  say  quietly  to  the  man  with  the  gray  beard: 

"I'm  sorry  you  all  goaded  him  into  taking  that 
position.  I  came  up  here  to  try  to  make  him  give 
up  that  reservoir  scheme.  You  see,  it  isn't  abso 
lutely  necessary  to  this  project  here,  and  he's  more 
than  apt  to  get  into  serious  trouble  over  it." 

"You  know  Marshall,  don't  you?"  the  other  re 
plied.  "Well,  I  don't  have  to  tell  you  then  that 
you'd  better  not  urge  that  last  reason  if  you  really 
want  him  to  desist." 

"  Oh,  I  know  him  too  well  for  that !  But  I  happen 
to  have  what  John  calls  'sentimental  scruples'  about 
the  project,  and  I  am  going  to  urge  them  again.  He 
has  flatly  refused  to  listen  to  me  so  far,  but  something 


160        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

he  said  in  one  of  his  recent  letters  led  me  to  believe 
that  he  might  be  getting  a  little  dubious  about  the 
matter,  after  all,  so  I  packed  my  grip  and  came." 

"Didn't  sound  much  like  a  change  of  heart — what 
he  said  just  now." 

"No,  but  there's  one  good  way  to  bring  about  a 
change  of  heart  in  a  man —  Remember  those  can 
died  violets?  " 

"Why,  you  don't  tell  me — eh! —  Sure  now?  A 
woman  in  the  case?  Lord,  but  I  knew  no  man  could 
eat  candy  at  that  rate  and  live." 

"He  hasn't  said  so  to  me,  but  he  keeps  reverting 
to  some  girl  in  his  letters.  Doesn't  seem  to  be  able 
to  get  her  off  his  mind.  If  the  worst  comes  to  the 
worst,  I  may  be  able  to  influence  him  through  her. 
I  mean  to  give  her  a  dare,  anyway." 

"Well,  well,  to  think  of  John  Marshall  of  all  men 
in  the  world — but  they  are  all  alike." 

A  sudden  lull  in  the  hum  of  voices  left  one  of  the 
youngsters  asking  in  a  high  key: 

"Who  on  earth  succeeded  in  heading  Horton  off 
from  finishing  that  story?  " 

"Horton  ain't  headed  off,"  replied  that  gentleman 
himself,  and  he  cleared  his  throat  for  action.  The 
group  came  to  attention.  It  was  Marshall  who  gave 
the  raconteur  the  cue  for  resuming:  "Start  at  the 
beginning  and  let's  have  a  connected  narrative, 
Horton,"  he  suggested,  with  veiled  interest  in  his 
voice. 

"Well,  there  really  ain't  so  much  to  tell,"  began  the 
man  addressed;  "I  went  there  about  eleven  years  or 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        161 

so  ago  to  homestead  a  quarter  on  the  slope  of  a  ridge 
called  'Stony  Lonesome' — not  in  your  valley,  John," 
and  they  all  laughed  again,  "but  just  over  the  crest 
of  the  ridge  from  it.  They  are  not  a  bad  lot — those 
hill  people.  On  the  contrary  they've  got  fine  quali 
ties.  After  you  live  with  them  a  bit  and  ketch  onto 
their  kinks,  you  find  them  a  good  sort.  Well,  the 
only  neighbor  I  had  anywhere  on  this  slope  I  was 
tellin'  you  about  was  a  peculiar  cove  by  the  name 
of  '  Welchel  Dale' — as  handsome  a  fellow  as  you  ever 
set  eyes  on — "  Marshall  leaned  a  little  toward  him 
as  he  listened.  "By-the-way,  John,  he  was  son-in- 
law  to  that  old  ha'nt  you  are  keeping  house  with 
right  now." 

The  men  who  were  watching  Marshall's  face  sud 
denly  thanked  their  stars  that  the  responsibility  of 
his  perilous  scheme  did  not  rest  on  their  shoulders. 
For  some  reason  he  got  up  and  changed  his  seat  to 
where  he  was  a  little  apart  from  the  others.  His  face 
was  now  in  shadow,  but  Bearing's  eyes  followed  him, 
and  shifted  from  his  shaded  face  to  the  narrator's, 
and  back  again,  as  the  story  advanced: 

"Well,  Dale  didn't  seem  to  have  any  kinfolks  at 
all,  but  to  be  just  drifting.  He  was  hardly  grown 
when  he  ran  away  with  and  married  the  daughter  of 
that  old  '  Silas '  John  told  us  about  the  other  day.  It 
seems  that  the  girl  was  spirited  and  disobedient, 
anyway,  and  her  marriage  broke  the  old  camel's 
back,  for  he  disowned  her  for  good." 

He  cut  another  chew  of  tobacco,  stretched  his  legs, 
and  continued  deliberately:  "Dale  built  a  cabin 


1 62         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

on  the  quarter  right  next  to  the  one  I  afterward 
homesteaded.  When  I  went  there  his  wife  had  been 
dead  for  some  years,  but  he  still  lived  alone  except 
for  the  company  of  his  child. 

"He  was  a  queer  fellow,  Dale  was,  the  queerest  I 
ever  set  eyes  on.  He's  about  the  only  man  I  ever 
met  who  wouldn't  lie  at  some  time  under  some  cir 
cumstances;  and  nothing  the  others  could  offer 
would  induce  him  to  enter  any  wild-cat  scheme  with 
them.  He  simply  kept  his  hands  clean.  Two  of 
them  from  over  in  the  valley,  a  fellow  named  Trav 
Williams  and  one  they  called  Bud  Davis,  tried  to 
get  him  to  go  into  the  moonshine  business  with  them, 
but  he  refused.  It  made  them  mean  mad,  and  they 
went  off  and  set  up  in  the  business  without  him." 

The  torches  were  burning  lower;  it  was  impossible 
now  for  Dearing  to  see  his  friend's  face. 

"Well,  about  that  time,"  continued  Horton,  "my 
shack  caught  fire  and  burned  down.  Dale  kindly 
invited  me  over  to  stay  with  him,  and  I  went;  but  I 
hadn't  been  there  many  days  before  I  saw  that  there 
was  goin'  to  be  trouble.  The  revenue  officers  raided 
and  destroyed  the  still  of  Davis  and  Williams  and 
captured  both  men.  Well,  that  night,  Dale  come 
home  in  a  white  rage — he  had  the  devil's  own  temper 
— and  told  me  that  the  neighbors  were  sayin'  he  had 
informed  on  the  arrested  men.  Now,  in  point  of 
fact,  Dale  and  I  both  knew  who  the  informer  was — a 
miserable  sneaking  cur  by  the  fantastic  name  of 
'Shan  Thaggin.'  But  it  belonged  to  Dale's  code  of 
honor  not  to  peach,  and  of  course  I  wasn't  lookin' 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         163 

for  trouble.  After  the  trial — the  wretches  got  off 
through  a  string  of  systematic  neighborhood  lies — 
Williams  and  Davis  come  home  with  the  fell  deter 
mination  of  gettin'  even  with  poor  Welchel.  And 
they  did.  They  fixed  it  up  for  one  of  the  neighbors 
to  ask  an  interview  with  me  one  night  at  his  own 
house,  and  while  I  was  away,  a  party  of  unknowns 
went  to  our  cabin  and  carried  Dale  off  to  the  woods. 
It  was  told  me  on  the  dead  quiet  that  when  Dale 
protested  his  innocence  and  let  out  that  he  knew  who 
the  real  informer  was,  his  persecuters  set  about 
makin'  him  tell  on  the  other  man.  It  is  said  that 
they  strung  him  up  several  times  to  try  to  make  him 
tell,  but  that  never  a  syllable  could  they  get  from 
him.  The  last  time  they  pulled  him  up,  they  kept 
him  hangin'  a  little  too  long.  It  was  up  to  them  then 
to  justify  themselves  to  their  neighbors,  so  word  was 
spread  around  that  Dale  had  confessed.  That  was 
justification  enough.  Well,  if  you'll  believe  me,  that 
little  kid  of  Welchel's  slept  through  that  visitation 
and  on  through  the  night  undisturbed.  Early  next 
mornin'  an  old  man  who  kept  the  district  store  near 
by  come  and  took  her  to  his  house.  But  you  needn't 
be  bothered  about  an  adverse  claim  to  that  place, 
Marshall" — turning  directly  to  him — "that  kid  was 
adopted  by  a  rich  man  in  south  Alabama  and  could 
buy  and  sell  your  little  hill-top  several  times." 

"What  do  you  remember  of  the  child?"  Marshall 
asked  from  the  now  deep  shadow. 

The  narrator,  whose  mind  was  taken  up  with 
Marshall's  vital  interest  in  the  property  he  occupied, 


1 64        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

was  not  prepared  for  this  question,  and  had  to  scratch 
his  head  a  moment  and  think. 

"Why,  I — I — don't  know  much.  She  was  just  a 
kitten,  you  know.  She  had  wonderful  eyes,  though, 
I  remember;  and  she'd  arch  her  back  at  you  quick 
as  a  flash  if  you  trespassed  on  what  she  considered 
her  rights.  She  was  high-minded  like  her  daddy, 
and  a  trifle  high-handed,  too,  if  I  remember  right. 
But  what  do  you  want  to  know  about  her  for?" 

"What  was  her  name?" 

"Mary — Mary — oh,  yes,  Mary  Elizabeth." 

Marshall  got  up  without  comment,  stretched  him 
self,  and  went  out  under  the  starlight.  Fred  Bearing 
slipped  out  of  the  group  and  followed  him  in  time  to 
see  hun  strike  his  hands  together — in  time  to  hear 
him,  as  he  thought,  exclaim  under  his  breath: 

"  God !    What  have  I  done ! " 

But  when  Bearing  came  up  to  him  and  asked  him 
what  the  matter  was,  Marshall  answered  in  a  sur 
prised  tone: 

"Why,  nothing!    What  are  you  talking  about?" 

But  Bearing  laid  his  hand  on  his  arm:  "John,"  he 
said,  earnestly,  "give  this  thing  up." 

"I'll  not  do  it." 

"  It's  a  bad  scheme,  I  tell  you." 

"Just  what  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  it's  grasping — it's  unjust,  inhuman, 
to  those  poor  devils  up  there." 

"Bearing!" 

"Ah,  cut  that,  John!  You  need  somebody  to  tell 
you  the  truth!" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         165 

Marshall  did  not  speak  for  some  moments,  but 
when  he  did  it  was  to  ask:  "Do  you  think  that  a 
half-dozen  little  mangy  corn  patches  and  as  many 
log  cabins  are  worth  the  millions  of  dollars  that  they 
are  now  keeping  out  of  this  section  by  the  simple 
fact  of  their  being?" 

But  Bearing  ignored  the  question.  "How  could 
you  get  hold  of  such  a  big  tract  under  the  existing 
law?"  he  asked. 

"Bought  up  a  number  of  military-bounty  land 
warrants,  and  had  them  all  located  here,"  replied  the 
other,  growing  calmer.  He  did  not  see  the  expres 
sion  of  Fred  Dearing's  face,  so  he  continued,  in  a 
mollified  tone:  "If  you'll  remember,  I  bought  out 
most  of  the  real  land-owners — all  that  would  sell — 
years  ago.  There  were  only  a  half-dozen  or  so  little 
farms  left.  Of  these  only  one  is  actually  the  property 
of  the  present  holder,  and  I  think  I  see  my  way  to 
an  early  deal  there,  though  I  am  going  to  have  to 
pay  an  outrageous  price  for  the  place.  Now,  if  it 
will  make  you  feel  any  better  on  my  account,  I'll 
tell  you  that  I  have  always  intended  to  take  those  of 
the  ousted  tribe  that  are  at  all  worth  while,  and  pro 
vide  them  with  homes  and  with  good  employment 
in  some  of  our  industrial  plants.  I  have  made  up  my 
mind  to  give  back  to  each  one  of  them — to  such  as 
deserve  it,  I  mean — the  full  equivalent  of  the  prop 
erty  which  he  will  lose  by  me;  and  if  another  little 
scheme  of  mine  carries,  I  shouldn't  wonder  if  they 
don't  get  a  lot  more  out  of  me  than  that.  So  cheer 
up,  old  man,  I  haven't  gone  to  the  devil  yet,  eh?" 


1 66        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Bearing's  shoulder  proved  rather  stiffly  unrespon 
sive  to  the  friendly  little  shake  the  speaker  tried  to 
give  it,  and  the  shaken  asked,  coolly: 

"What  about  the  ones  who  are  not  'worth  while,' 
who  don't  'deserve'?" 

"Look  here,  Bearing,  you  heard  Horton's  story. 
Well,  that  man  Williams  and  that  Bud  Davis  that 
you  heard  him  tell  about — men  who  have  cheated 
the  penitentiary  and  the  gallows,  too,  mind  you — are 
the  principal  landholders  in  that  class;  and  they  and 
their  ilk  can  go  to  hell!  They've  enjoyed  the  free 
use  of  property  that  isn't  theirs  quite  long  enough. 
There  is  a  Davis,  a  brother  of  Horton's  man,  by 
the  way,  that's  a  man.  I'm  going  to  do  something 
nice  for  him.  I'm  going  to  make  him  a  handsome 
present." 

If  Marshall  looked  for  enthusiastic  comment  on 
his  beneficent  plans,  he  was  doomed  to  disappoint 
ment,  for  Dearing  changed  the  subject  with: 

"Thought  I'd  ride  over  to  your  place  and  pay  you 
that  visit  you've  been  insisting  on  having." 

There  was  a  distinct  pause,  and  then  Marshall  said, 
hesitatingly: 

"Well — you  see — I'll  tell  you,  old  man,  I  really 
can't  make  you  quite  comfortable  now.  You  can't 
get  anything  to  eat  up  there  but  walnuts  and  chest 
nuts;  and,  besides,  I  have  to  be  away  a  good  deal. 
Suppose  you  make  your  visit  to  me  down  here  at  the 
camp.  The  boys  will  feed  you  high  and  make  you 
have  a  good  time,  and  I'll  be  with  you  every  few 
days.  I've  an  excellent  little  saddle-horse  up  there 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         167 

that  I'll  send  down  to  be  yours  while  you  are  here. 
Old  man,  it  sure  will  be  good  to  have  you,"  he  added, 
as  if  to  throw  in  the  touch  of  enthusiasm  which  the 
first  part  of  his  reply  most  certainly  lacked. 

If  Bearing  noticed  the  lack  of  enthusiasm,  or  if 
he  felt  any  surprise  or  pique  at  having  been  thus 
cordially  invited  to  stay  away  from  his  friend's  place 
of  habitation,  the  other  had  no  way  of  knowing  it, 
for  the  night  hid  their  faces,  and  Bearing's  voice 
was  even  and  cheery  as  he  replied: 

"All  right,  I'll  put  up  with  the  boys,  then;  but 
you'll  let  me  really  see  something  of  you,  won't  you? 
You  can't  be  so  very  busy." 

"Why,  yes,  I'll  be  with  you  the  biggest  part  of  the 
time,  of  course."  Several  of  the  others  joined  them 
at  this  juncture,  and  the  two  friends  had  no  further 
opportunity  for  confidential  talk  that  night. 

When  Bearing  rolled  out  for  breakfast  the  next 
morning,  he  was  told  that  Marshall  had  left  before 
sunrise  on  a  freight-train  going  south,  after  having 
given  sweeping  orders  that  he,  Bearing,  be  shown 
"  the  time  of  his  life." 

The  patriarch,  who  had  shared  his  tent  with  Mar 
shall  in  order  to  allow  Bearing  one  to  himself,  told 
Bearing  at  breakfast,  in  an  aside,  that  Marshall  had 
spent  the  greater  part  of  the  night  pacing  up  and 
down  before  the  tent  door. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  hour  for  dismissal  of  school  had  come  that 
day,  or,  at  least,  so  stated  John  Marshall's  watch  on 
being  appealed  to  for  about  the  twentieth  time;  and 
still  its  owner  had  not  succeeded  in  obtaining  an 
interview  with  the  little  teacher. 

Twice  had  Marshall  essayed  to  see  her,  and  twice 
had  he  been  repulsed:  At  two  o'clock,  when,  tired  and 
dusty  from  hours  of  hard  riding,  he  had  presented 
himself  at  the  school-house  door  and  sent  in  a  mes 
sage,  the  teacher  was  reported  "too  busy"  to  see 
him.  At  afternoon  recess,  when  he  had  again  asked 
the  favor  of  only  a  few  words  with  her,  she  wrote  on  a 
slip  of  paper  which  she  sent  out  to  him:  "There  is 
nothing  more  to  be  said  between  us." 

And  so  the  hour  of  four  o'clock  had  come  without 
his  having  gained  an  interview  with  the  girl,  but  it 
found  him  still  determined  to  see  her.  He  was  de 
liberately  waylaying  her  now,  just  at  the  fork  of  the 
road  where  she  was  bound  to  pass  on  her  homeward 
journey. 

The  long  vigil  before  the  patriarch's  tent  last 
night,  the  half-day  of  hard  travel,  and  the  hours  of 
impatient  disappointment  that  had  followed  had 
written  themselves  across  the  man's  strong  face, 
and  the  lines  about  his  hard  mouth  told  the  added 
story  that  something  had  hurt  him,  and  vitally. 

168 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         169 

He  was  afoot  to-day,  and  he  now  walked  up  and 
down  the  wooded  stretch  of  the  big  road  near  the 
fork  in  restless  impatience — always  hurriedly,  always 
feverishly,  always  as  if  the  act  itself  had  in  it  some 
thing  of  desperation. 

At  length,  at  a  crucial  point  in  his  thinking,  he 
unconsciously  transgressed  the  limit  he  had  set  for 
himself  and  swung  round  the  bend  in  the  road,  bring 
ing  himself  suddenly  face  to  face  with  the  object  of 
his  deep  perturbation. 

The  girl  all  but  screamed  at  the  suddenness  of  his 
appearance,  but  she  recovered  quickly  and  with  a 
flash  of  spirit,  as  Marshall  stopped  immediately  in 
front  of  her,  purposely  blocking  her  way. 

"I  have  always  assured  myself  that  by  instinct 
you  were  a  gentleman,"  she  said. 

"Well,  to-day  I'm  only  a  man.  I  must  speak  to 
you — just  a  moment,  please — there  have  been  devel 
opments  in  this  land  question  that  you  must  hear. 
It  is  for  your  sake  that  I  am  forcing  myself  on 
you." 

The  girl  had  turned  away  from  him  as  he  began 
to  speak,  but  now  faced  him  again.  "What  is  it?" 
she  asked,  with  quick  apprehension. 

"Why— I— let's  walk  on  while  I  tell  you." 

"What  is  it  you  have  found  out?"  the  girl  asked, 
impatient  to  know  the  worst  or  the  best  of  it. 

"Last  night,"  he  began  again,  "I  heard  a  man  tell 
a  story  that  involved  you  and  me,  and  your  interests 
and  my  interests.  He  had  lived  up  here — had  stayed 
at  your  father's  house.  He  said — this  man  said — 


170        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

that  the  man  we  have  always  called  'White-faced 
Silas'  was — I  really  wouldn't  tell  you  this  if  I  didn't 
have  to — was  your  grandfather." 

"No!" 

"Yes." 

"He  told  you  a  falsehood!" 

"No,  he  told  me  the  truth.  I  have  been  to  Mr. 
Logan  this  morning  to  verify  his  statements." 

"It  isn't  true,  I  tell  you!  I  won't  have  it  true!" 
The  girl  turned  on  him  as  if  to  hold  him  personally 
responsible  for  the  story  that  he  was  telling  her: 
"What  do  you  mean  by  coming  to  me  with  such  a 
statement  as  that?  Even  if  it  were  true,  how  could 
you?" 

"I  wouldn't  hurt  you  for  anything  if  I  could  help 
it,  but  don't  you  see  how  this  complicates  things  for 
you  and  me?  " 

"I  don't  see  anything  except  that  I  am —  Oh,  I 
knew  that  I  came  of  poor  and  ignorant  people,  but 
I  thought — I  always  thought  that  I  could  hold  up 
my  head!" 

"Why,  you  can.  Nobody  in  all  this  countryside 
has  a  better  right  to,"  and  as  they  stopped,  facing 
each  other,  he  told  her  the  story  of  her  father,  the 
man  who  had  kept  his  hands  clean  of  illicit  business 
and  died  for  what  he  considered  a  point  of  honor. 
He  did  not  tell  her  how  Welchel  Dale  had  died,  and 
he  purposely  withheld  the  names  of  the  men  who 
were  responsible  for  his  death. 

"And  I  am  his  child?"  she  said,  and  her  proud  lips 
quivered. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         171 

"Yes,  you  are  his  child.  I  recognized  you  in  the 
description  of  him." 

He  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  her  troubled  face 
clear,  in  a  degree,  of  the  poignant  pain  his  disclosure 
had  given  her;  and  something  intimately  tender 
trembled  for  a  moment  on  his  lips,  when  the  girl 
reminded  him,  coldly: 

"You  said  there  was  something  about  this  land 
matter  that  I  ought  to  know." 

The  warm  flush  that  had  sprung  to  his  face  receded. 
"Why,  don't  you  see  what  this  brings  about?"  he 
asked,  lamely. 

"Does  it  bring  anything  about?" 

"Yes,  it's  your  property — I  mean  that  it  is  prop 
erty  which  you  have  the  sentimental  claim  to — that 
I  have  taken  possession  of,  and  am  living  on  now — 
it's- 

"It's  mine?  That  place  is  mine?  And  you  have 
at  last  decided  to  let  me  know  that  it  is  my  titles 
which  are  good —  No,  no,  I  know  better  than  that 
—I  didn't  mean  that!" 

He  did  not  answer  her  but  stood  silent  under  her 
charges.  It  was  the  girl  herself  who  refuted  them. 
She  came  up  to  him,  she  put  out  her  hand  as  if  to 
lay  it  on  his  arm,  but  she  looked  into  the  eyes  of  the 
man  and  drew  back.  When  she  spoke  again  it  was 
with  an  effort: 

"I  know  that  you  would  not  do  me  an  injustice; 
I  have  told  myself  over  and  over  that  you  would, 
but  I  don't  believe  it  now.  Don't,  don't  be  hurt 
with  me."  Her  lips  were  threatening  to  tremble 
again,  and  the  man  surrendered,  unconditionally. 


172         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"  Oh,  never  mind  about  me.  It  is  you  who  are  to 
be  considered.  What  on  earth  are  we  going  to  do 
about  it?  " 

"Why,  I  don't  have  to  tell  you  what  I  am  going 
to  do."  ' 

"What?" 

"I  am  going  to  keep  my  property  to  save  these 
others.  I'm  sorry  that  it  has  to  hurt  you."  But 
even  as  she  said  it,  a  sickening  doubt  of  him  welled 
up  in  her  heart. 

"But  that  is  beyond  your  power." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"Don't  you  see  yet  that  this  property  about  here 
never  did  belong  to  the  people?  It's  government 
land."  The  girl  was  visibly  hardening  again,  and 
the  desperation  in  the  man's  tone  voiced  his  utter 
hopelessness  of  convincing  her.  "The  situation  in  a 
nutshell  is  that  your  grandfather,  more  intelligent 
than  his  neighbors,  'entered'  his  land  according  to 
law;  but,  for  some  reason,  failed  to  make  final  proof 
before  his  death.  His  heirs  could,  on  the  proper 
showing,  have  completed  the  entry  and  obtained  the 
titles.  You  yourself  might  have  done  this  if  you 
had  known,  if  I  had  known,  that  you  were  this  man's 
heir." 

"Why  do  you  say  'might  have'  done  it?  Why 
can't  I  do  it  now?"  The  spirit  of  the  hills  was 
challenging. 

"You  can't  do  it  for  the  reason  that  the  property 
is  absolutely  mine." — Could  this  be  the  same  Mary 
Elizabeth  who  five  minutes  ago  was  repentant  for 
having  wounded  him? — But  he  made  no  sign  as  he 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         173 

continued:  "Finding  this  land  registered  as  an 
'abandoned'  claim,  I  entered  it.  I  have  lived  on  it 
only  a  few  months,  but  I  paid  the  difference  in  cash. 
A  week  ago  to-day  I  obtained  the  titles.  I  did  not 
know  until  last  night  that  you  were  the  heir  of  the 
first  claimant,  and  I  came  to  you  as  soon  as  I  heard 
it." 

"What  for?" 

" '  What  for? '    Do  you  ask  me  that?  " 

"I  certainly  do." 

"To  pay  you  for  what  you  have  lost  through  me." 

"But  the  property  was  not  my  grandfather's,  you 
say." 

"No,  the  titles  were  in  the  government." 

"Then  you  don't  owe  me  anything." 

"But  you  don't  understand,"  the  man  protested. 

"Yes,  I  do  understand,  perfectly.  I  understand 
that  something  which  might  have  been  mine,  if  I 
had  known  in  time  to  secure  it,  is  now  yours  because 
I  did  not  know.  And  I  understand  that  if  I  had 
secured  this  property,  I  could  have  saved  these 
people's  homes  for  them  and  defeated  your  big  in 
dustrial  scheme." 

Did  she  really  mean  what  her  words  implied? 
The  man  asked  himself  the  question,  but  in  vain. 
When  he  spoke  again  he  was  still  debating  her 
deeper  meaning : 

"But  you  do  not  understand  that  the  business 
world  grants  a  certain  money  value  to  claims  like 
yours.  It  will  be  really  worth  it  to  me  to  buy  what 
is  called  a  'quitclaim'  from  you.  You  are  just  and 


174        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

fair  to  others;  try,  for  once,  to  be  just  to  me.  Now 
this  property  is  not  yours,  but  you  stand  deprived 
by  me  of  a  certain  claim  to  it  which  you  might  have 
re-established.  You  might  also  have  sold  the  claim, 
unknowingly,  to  some  other  unknowing  party,  and 
thus  have  realized  on  it." 

"You  want  to  pay  me  for  what  doesn't  belong  to 
me? — I'm  trying  to  follow  you,  but  you'll  forgive  me 
if  I  find  it  hard." 

"If  you  will  just  take  my  word  for  it,  I  want  to 
pay  you  for  something  that  is  worth  money  to  me." 

"What?" 

"Your  willingness  to  surrender  all  claim  to  the 
property,  your  agreement  not  to  make  trouble  about 
it,  your  'good-will,'  as  it  is  called  hi  law." 

"But  I  am  not  willing  to  give  up  these  claims  that 
you  say  I  don't  possess  if  through  them  I  can  make 
trouble  for  you,  and  you  haven't  the  money  to  buy 
from  me  my  'good- will'!" 

Marshall  despaired  of  getting  her  to  comprehend 
the  legal  significance  of  the  term  which  she  thus 
seized  upon  and  misinterpreted,  but  he  decided  to 
make  one  more  appeal  to  her,  and  he  urged  it  very 
sincerely: 

"Now  let  me  tell  you  something,"  he  insisted. 
"Put  aside  your  prejudices  for  a  moment,  if  you  pos 
sibly  can,  and  consider  this  side  of  the  proposition: 
If  you  persist  in  your  opposition  to  me,  you  are  going 
to  stir  up  trouble  here,  trouble  which  can  end  in  but 
one  thing — injury  to  the  people  you  are  trying  to 
help.  If  you  acquiesce  in  this  arrangement  with  me, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         175 

and  you  should,  you  will  furnish  an  example  to  these 
people,  and  help  them  to  make  way  cheerfully  for  a 
prosperity  which  they  and  their  children  will  have 
the  chance  to  share." 

All  at  once  the  girl  remembered  a  scene  beside  an 
isolated  grave  when  the  twilight  had  shown  her 
things  which  the  garish  daylight  of  her  every-day 
life  had  but  served  to  conceal. 

"Don't,"  she  protested  to  Marshall,  passionately. 
"Don't/" 

"But,  good  God,  I  can't  rob  a  woman!"  he  burst 
out,  with  inadvertent  desperation. 

"There's  a  woman  in  every  home  that  you  are 
planning  to  destroy,"  she  replied.  "It's  curious, 
isn't  it,  that  men  who  will  not  hesitate  to  do  injustice 
to  a  number  of  women  collectively,  will  indignantly 
reject  the  idea  of  being  unjust  to  a  woman.  What's 
the  psychology  of  it?" 

"The  psychology  of  my  own  particular  part  in  it 
is  that  I  am  a  fool!"  he  exclaimed,  with  a  sudden, 
desperate  welling  up  of  the  heart  within  him.  "  Oh, 
don't  be  afraid,  I'm  not  going  to  make  love  to  you 
again!  You  are  unjust  to  me,  you  know  you  are. 
You  who  prate  of  justice  for  everybody  else,  set  your 
face  steadily  against  me,  right  or  wrong.  You  know 
perfectly  well  that  there  could  be  to  me  no  bitterness 
comparable  to  doing  you  an  injury  and  leaving  it 
unrepaired,  yet  you  deliberately  put  me  in  this  posi 
tion.  You  know  that  I  did  not  dream  the  property 
was  yours,  and  that  I  would  have  died  rather  than 
take  it  knowingly.  Yet  now  you  refuse  to  let  me 
right  the  wrong  I  have  done  you!" 


176        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"But  you  said  the  property  was  not  mine.  How 
could  you  rob  me  of  what  was  not  mine?"  she  inter 
rupted. 

"Why,  if  you  had  known  it  in  time,  you  might 
have  contested  my  claim.  You  had,  of  course,  only 
one  chance  in  many  of  winning  in  open  contest 
against  me,  but  still  that  one  chance  was  worth 
something,  and  I  have  robbed  you  of  that.  It  is 
nothing  but  humanly  right,  and  fair  and  just  to  me, 
that  you  should  let  me  make  adequate  restitution." 

"That  is  so  like  you." 

"What  is?" 

"That  'adequate  restitution."3 

"Will  you  tell  me  what  you  mean?" 

"Why,  there  are  men  who  would  have  thought  of 
just  plain  'restitution."1 

Mary  Elizabeth  was  too  angry  now  to  see  or  care 
for  the  hurt  which  her  words  inflicted,  but  she  was 
interested  in  seeing  the  man  dive  for  something  in 
his  innermost  pocket  with  a  savagery  seemingly 
totally  unnecessary. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked,  as  a  formidable-looking 
paper  was  thrust  into  her  hand. 

"Just  plain  'restitution."1 

"Please  tell  me  what  it  is  about." 

"  It  is  a  deed  from  myself  to  yourself  of  the  prop 
erty  I  am  living  on  now.  It  makes  that  property 
yours  beyond  anybody's  question.  It  was  not  yours 
at  first,  but  it  is  now.  I  entered  the  land  fairly,  and 
subscribed  to  all  the  requirements  made  by  the 
government.  I  got  full  titles  to  it  a  week  ago. 
Last  night  I  found  out  that  it  was  your  grandfather 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         177 

who  had  all  but  completed  claim  before  dying.  I 
hoped  that  you  would  let  me  pay  you  for  the  place 
for  reasons  that  we  need  not  discuss  now,  but  I  was 
so  afraid  that  you  would  not,  and  was  so  certain 
that  I  was  not  going  to  do  you  even  a  seeming  in 
justice,  that  I  went  to  Simkinsville  this  morning, 
and  formally  deeded  the  property  to  you.  As  long 
as  you  hold  that  paper,  neither  I  nor  any  other  man 
can  disturb  you  in  possession  of  the  place." 

"And  you  were  probably  certain,  also,  that  I 
would  decline  to  accept  this  from  you!" 

Marshall  looked  her  through  and  through,  then 
turned  on  his  heel  and  left  her  standing  with  the 
deed  to  the  haunted  house  in  her  outstretched  hand. 
Scarcely  had  he  taken  the  first  half-dozen  hurried 
steps,  however,  when  the  girl  began  tearing  the 
formidable  paper  into  bits. 

At  the  first  sound  of  the  tearing,  Marshall  turned 
quickly  and  sprang  to  her  side  to  catch  her  hands 
and  stop  her,  but  he  was  too  late.  The  white  frag 
ments  were  already  fluttering  to  earth  as  he  grasped 
her  wrists. 

"You — you  can't  give  me  anything!"  she  stormed, 
snatching  away  from  his  detaining  grasp.  "I  know 
you  now.  You've  been  trying  to  buy  me  from  the 
first  because  you  thought  I  had  influence  here,  and 
would  help  you  cheat  these  people.  That's  what  it 
is!  And  I  was  weak  enough  to  think  that  your 
beautiful  attentions  were  what  they  seemed,  and  I 
trusted  you  when  you  betrayed  my  woman's  heart 
and  told  me " 


178        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"Don't  say  that  to  me,  don't!" 

But  the  girl's  almost  insane  temper  was  now  at 
white  heat.  "Oh,  but  I  know  you,  I  tell  you!  And 
I  even  see  through  this  crowning  act  of  yours — you 
knew  that  I  wouldn't  take  it,  but  you  thought  I 
wouldn't  understand,  that  I  would  be  grateful  to 
you — so  grateful  that  I  wouldn't  turn  on  you  at  a 
crisis  and  tell  what  I  know.  You  couldn't  under 
stand  what  it  means  to  be  bound  by  a  sense  of 
honor!" 

This  time  when  he  turned  and  left  her  he  did  not 
come  back. 


CHAPTER  XV 

"SISTER  DAVIS,  what  on  earth  is  the  matter  with 
Ma'y'LizbethDale?" 

It  was  Sunday  afternoon  at  the  Thaggin  home, 
and  a  half-dozen  neighborhood  gossips  were  gathered 
together  in  the  "big  room"  to  discuss  a  momentous 
happening. 

Outside,  on  the  porch,  the  men  were  taking  the 
keen  fall  air  rather  than  brave  the  company  of  the 
"sisteren"  inside.  It  might  have  been  the  result  of 
the  tradition-long  division  of  the  sheep  from  the 
goats  in  their  primitive  little  church  that  thus  the 
two  sexes  herded  in  separate  groups  all  Sunday 
long,  or  it  might  have  been  that  the  weekly  shave 
and  bath  took  the  hardihood  out  of  these  primitive 
lords  of  creation  much  as  a  periodical  plucking  ren 
ders  timid  and  ashamed  the  geese  that  are  plucked. 
Certain  it  was  that  the  lords  in  question  hung  around 
on  the  edges  of  this  Sunday  afternoon  conclave,  and 
echoed  only  weakly  the  gossip  of  the  main  group. 

"What  is  the  matter  with  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  Dale?" 
The  speaker  was  hurriedly  untying  her  bonnet 
strings,  and  the  suppressed  excitement  in  her  ques 
tion  voiced  the  mood  of  the  assemblage,  the  mem 
bers  of  which  were  in  the  first  plunge  of  deep  debate. 

"Dilsey  Sellers,  when  you  tell  me  what  the  matter 
is  with  the  whole  rotten  tribe  she  come  from,  I'll  set 

179 


i8o         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

you  straight  'bout  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  herself."  Aunt 
Millie  Davis  was  rarely  known  to  answer  civilly,  even 
when  a  question  was  especially  pleasing  to  her. 

A  hacking  cough  from  the  depths  of  a  homespun- 
covered  barrel  chair  was  followed  by  the  eager  but 
quavering  question:  "What's  she  been  up  to  now?" 

"Hush,  ma!  Why  can't  you  'tend  to  your  own 
business?"  the  younger  Mrs.  Thaggin  hastened  to 
put  in,  but  the  first  speaker  was  not  so  easily  silenced. 

"Why,  grandma,  ef  you'll  b'lieve  me,  Ma'y 
'Lizbeth  'fused  to  come  up  to  the  communion  table 
this  mornin',  an'  when  Brother  Sykes  went  over  to 
her  an'  exhorted  her  to  come,  she  shrunk  away  from 
him,  horrified-like,  an'  her  eyes  burnt  like  live  coals! " 

"Grandma,  you  ain't  never  seen  the  beat  o'  that 
look  she  give  Brother  Sykes,"  interpolated  another. 

"Hit's  somethin'  on  her  conscience,"  exclaimed 
the  old  lady;  "she  ain't  been  givin'  some  people 
what  rightfully  b'longs  to  'em." 

"Hit's  somethin'  on  her  conscience,  all  right,"  in 
sinuated  the  first  speaker.  "Did  you  see  him  thar — • 
that  strange  man?  An'  for  the  first  time  in  his  life? 
An'  did  you  see  the  way  he  watched  her?  The 
wretch  never  shet  his  eyes  in  prayer  a  single  time 
for  lookin'  at  her;  an'  when  Brother  Sykes  tried  to 
make  her  see  the  error  of  her  ways,  he  got  up  an' 
flung  out  o'  meetin'." 

"She  looked  like  a  ha'nt  herself,"  put  in  another. 
"I  shouldn't  wonder  ef  she  hasn't  been  more'n  a 
handful  for  you,  Sister  Davis.  Beck  Login  is  astin' 
a  good  deal  of  you," 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         181 

"Ef  you  hadn't  done  got  sanctification,  you 
wouldn't  stand  hit  a  minute,  would  you,  Mis' 
Davis?"  asked  still  another  before  the  interrogated 
could  gather  her  wrath  together.  The  last  question 
caused  the  wind  of  Aunt  Millie's  mood  to  whip 
around  to  another  quarter,  and  she  folded  her  hands 
resignedly,  and  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  ceiling.  A  look 
of  disappointment  crossed  Dilsey  Sellers's  face.  She 
was  anxious  to  hear  Aunt  Millie  out  while  yet  her 
first  mood  was  upon  her,  but  the  untimely  reference 
to  that  lady's  state  of  sanctification  threatened  to 
spoil  it  all. 

"I  kin  bear  anything  the  Lord  sends,  Viney,"  re 
plied  the  old  woman  to  the  latest  questioner,  and  a 
murmur  of  unctuous  approval  went  up  from  the 
others  which  threatened  to  take  all  the  snap  out  of 
the  situation. 

"Yes,  if  the  Lord  sends  hit" — Dilsey  was  not  to 
be  defeated — "but  thar's  other  powers  at  work. 
Now  I  was  jest  a-thinkin'  how  your  Babe  sot  thar 
this  mornin'  a-starin'  across  to  the  women's  side  o' 
the  church,  a-watchin'  ever'  bat  of  Ma'y  'Lizbeth's 
eyelids.  I've  seen  the  day,  Sister  Davis,  when  your 
boys  was  ra-al  scornful-like  to  women,  an'  when  they 
was  that  mannerly  an'  shamefaceted  they  wouldn't 
so  much  as  glance  over  to  whar  the  women  set. 
An'  I  couldn't  help  rememberin'  Sallie  an'  all  the 
trouble  you  had  along  o'  her  an'  Bud,  an'  a-won- 
derin' " 

A  very  genuine  sigh  went  up  from  the  old  woman. 
"You're  speakin'  the  truth,  now,  Dilsey,"  she  said, 


1 82         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

with  sincere  concern.  "Hit  looks  like  I'm  a-goin' 
to  have  trouble  now  for  sure." 

"That's  jes  what  we  all  sensed,  Mis'  Davis;  Babe 
sho  is  took  with  that  gal.  Is  she  brazen  enough  to 
be  a-settin'  up  to  him  right  thar  under  your  nose?" 

"She's  brazen  enough, for  anything,"  snapped  the 
old  woman;  "but  that  ain't  the  worst  of  it" — the 
group  leaned  forward  as  a  unit  in  breathless  interest, 
and  the  speaker  continued — "that  ain't  the  worst  of 
it.  Bud  sees  th'ough  her  as  clear  as  day,  an'  he 
ain't  got  no  patience  with  her  a  tall.  He's  goin'  to 
tell  her  what  he  thinks  of  her  yet,  in  spite  of  all  I  kin 
do;  an'  when  he  does,  that  fool  Babe  is  goin'  to  up 
an'  do  somethin'  he  hadn't  ought  to." 

"Now  ain't  that  awful!" 

"La,  Mis'  Davis!  Babe  ain't  got  'nough  suption 
in  him  to  make  trouble,  is  he?  When  we  was  growin' 
up  we  used  to  say  he  didn't  have  right  good  wit" — 
Dilsey  Sellers  was  getting  even. 

"Babe's  got  very  good  wit,  considerin' ! " — 
Grandma  Thaggin  caught  her  daughter-in-law's  eye 
and  stopped,  while  Aunt  Millie  flashed  back :  "Babe's 
got  more  sense  than  many  that  talks  about  him." 

"An'  they  do  say  that  them  quiet,  stupid-like  folks 
is  awful  when  you  git  'em  riled."  Viney  was  doing 
her  groping  best  to  pour  oil  on  the  troubled  waters. 

"Wa-al,"  said  the  old  mother,  with  a  glow  of 
pride,  "as  mean  as  he  looks,  I'd  ruther  git  Bud  ra-al 
deep  stirred  up  any  day  than  Babe.  Y'all  don't 
know  Babe  like  I  do!" 

"Mis'  Davis,"  the  younger  Mrs.  Thaggin  had  held 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         183 

her  peace  up  to  this  point,  "I  wouldn't  be  pestered 
'bout  Babe  an'  the  teacher,  ef  I  was  you.  The  likes 
of  her  ain't  apt  to  be  settlin'  down  here  for  life.  She 
ain't  beholden  to  none  of  us,  you  know,  for  the  man 
what  raised  her  must  a-had  a  lot  o'  money."  This 
was  a  new  and  unwelcome  note  in  the  discussion,  but 
Mrs.  Davis  hastened  to  reverse  its  effect. 

"Melissa  Thaggin,  don't  you  know  that  man 
shifted  her  off  on  us  'cause  he  had  done  got  tired  of 
her?  An'  don't  you  know,  furthermore,  that  he  laid 
down  and  died  not  long  ago  'thout  ever  leavin'  her 
a  cent?" 

"Why,  no,  Mis'  Davis,  nobody  ain't  told  me  that." 

"Wa-al,  he  did." 

"Still,"  the  younger  Mrs.  Thaggin  insisted,  "Ma'y 
'Lizbeth  ain't  to  say  'shifted  off'  on  nobody.  She's 
makin'  her  own  good  money  teachin',  an'  she's  payin' 
her  boa'd  an'  washin'." 

"Wa-al,  I  ain't  heerd  tell  of  their  givin'  her  the 
school  for  life,  Melissa,  an'  I  have  heerd  tell  of  Mr. 
Sykes's  bein'  awful  displeased  with  her  way  of  teach- 
in'  it.  Mr.  Williams  told  my  Bud  no  longer  than 
yestiddy  that  there  ought  to  be  a  man  teacher  here 
to  whup  the  boys.  You  know  whether  Trav  Wil- 
liams's  got  influence  here  or  not."  Melissa  Thaggin 
was  dumb  with  something  more  than  surprise,  but 
the  others  voiced  their  approval  of  Trav  Williams's 
sentiments  in  monosyllabic  exclamations.  Then  one 
of  them  reverted  to  the  original  subject: 

"How  did  she  take  the  news  of  that  man's  dyin' 
an'  not  leavin'  her  all  that  money  she  thought  she 
was  a-goin'  to  git?" 


1 84        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"Took  hit  like  anybody  else  with  her  smartness 
would  a-took  hit.  She  knowed  she  was  dependent 
on  us  after  that,  an'  she  jes  nachully  set  to  work 
makin'  fair  weather  with  us  all  right  away.  She  told 
Babe  that  she  was  goin'  to  do  her  duty  by  us,  an'  he 
swallowed  the  bait,  hook  an'  all!"  The  old  woman 
cackled  derisively  as  she  continued:  "An'  the  fun  of 
hit  is,  she's  even  been  a-makin'  up  to  me.  Oh,  she 
was  powerful  high  an'  mighty  at  fust,  but  this  last 
week  she's  been  too  good  for  anything.  She  actually 
he'ps  with  the  dishes!  I  sont  her  to  the  well,  yes- 
tiddy,  but  that  fool,  Babe,  took  the  bucket  away 
from  her  an'  drawed  the  water  hisself." 

"Wa-al,  I'd  a-took  Babe  Davis  to  be  more  manlier 
than  to  be  doin'  women's  work!" 

"That's  the  trouble  with  you,  Dilsey,  ef  you'd 
a-knowed  anything  about  men,  you'd  a-had  one  o' 
your  own  by  this  time.  Now  you  kin  take  hit  from 
me  that  any  man  that's  lovin'  a  woman  will  draw 
water  for  her  tell  he  gits  her." 

There  was  an  awkward  silence  for  a  minute,  for 
Dilsey  Sellers's  unmarried  state  was  considered  a 
most  delicate  and  deplorable  circumstance.  It  was 
the  younger  Mrs.  Thaggin  who  kindly  turned  the 
conversation: 

"  Surster  is  ra-al  timid-like,  ain't  she,  Mis'  Davis? 
Come  out  from  behind  the  bed,  honey,  an'  let  me  see 
you  in  your  shoes  an'  stockin's."  But  the  scared- 
looking  child  only  crowded  up  closer  in  her  place  of 
refuge  and  put  her  finger  in  her  mouth. 

"That's  Sallie  in  her,"  declared  the  grandmother. 
"I  never  could  learn  her  no  manners.  Jes  let  her 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         185 

alone,  Melissa,  she'll  perk  up  after  while.  She's 
kinder  mortified  'cause  she's  clean."  All  untaught, 
Aunt  Millie  had  grasped  for  herself  the  psychology 
of  the  situation.  On  Saturday  nights  it  was  her 
practice  to  "wash"  Sister  down  to  the  substratum 
of  original  sin.  Mary  Elizabeth  spoke  of  the  proc 
ess  as  "bathing,"  but  in  spirit  and  in  truth  the 
weekly  rite  that  Aunt  Millie  performed  on  Sister 
was  exactly  what  the  old  woman  called  it,  and  the 
ordeal  always  took  something  out  of  the  child,  tem 
peramentally,  that  it  took  her  nearly  a  whole  week 
to  regain. 

But  Dilsey  Sellers  was  opposed  to  allowing  a  child 
to  monopolize  the  attention  of  grown  people;  besides, 
she  was  not  yet  ready  to  give  up  their  most  inter 
esting  topic  of  gossip. 

"What  about  that  strange  man  over  to  Silas's 
place?  He's  been  a-keepin'  sich  steady  comp'ny 
with  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  he  don't  seem  to  be  leavin'  her 
much  chance  to  make  up  to  Babe." 

"Who? — him?"  Aunt  Millie  sniffed  like  a  war- 
horse.  "  Lord,  didn't  you  know  he  has  done  throwed 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth  over?  "  The  reply  came  like  a  bomb 
shell,  and  a  half-dozen  exclamations  followed  in 
rapid  succession. 

"Now  ain't  that  like  a  man!"  Dilsey  was  left  say 
ing.  "Took  up  all  her  time  tell  he  got  tired  of  her, 
an'  then  throwed  her  away.  But  hit  serves  her  right, 
the  shameless  piece!  Mis'  Thaggin,  hit  sho  were  a 
blessin'  you  didn't  send  Sue  to  school  to  her  like  she 
come  an'  begged  you  to.  With  little  childern  hit 


1 86        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

don'  so  much  matter,  but  Sue's  ketchin'  on  to  things, 
an'  that  piece  might  a-been  the  ruination  of  her." 

"Who  are  you  old  sisters  scandalizin'  now?" 
Uncle  Beck  Logan  had  momentarily  detached  him 
self  from  his  masculine  companions,  and  poked  his 
head  in  the  window. 

"People  ain't  never  scandalized  tell  they  scan 
dalize  theyselves,"  snapped  the  last  speaker;  but 
she  didn't  explain. 

Aunt  Millie  was  to  the  front  in  an  instant. 

"I  was  jes  tellin'  'em,  Beck  Login,  how  that  pet 
o'  yourn  has  done  been  give  the  go-by  by  that 
stranger  what  y'all  can't  find  out  nothin'  'bout.  She 
ain't  been  loafin'  around  the  woods  with  him  for  a 
week,  an'  she  has  grieved  herself  plum  sick  on  account 
of  hit." 

The  habitually  kind  smile  died  out  of  the  man's 
face.  "Millie,"  he  said  grimly,  looking  straight  into 
the  old  woman's  eyes,  "ef  sanctification  were  ketch 
in',  I'd  quarantine  the  neighborhood  ag'inst  you." 

"We  women  ain't  sayin'  no  more'n  you  men  air 
thinkin',"  ventured  a  sharp-nosed  sister,  who  had 
been  silent  till  now.  "Trav  Williams  has  already 
done  told  my  Joshua  what  he  thinks  'bout  her." 

"Trav  Williams  got  crost-ways  with  Ma'y  'Lizbeth 
at  the  start,  an'  he  jes  won't  see  things  right." 

"What  did  she  'fuse  communion  for,  can  you  tell 
us  that?"  It  was  another  hitherto  silent  voice  that 
challenged. 

"Mebbe  she  wasn't  in  love  an'  charity  with  her 
neighbors  like  the  rest  of  you,  an'  she  was  'feard 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        187 

she'd  git  a  mouthful  o'  damnation."  For  fully  a 
minute  the  horrified  listeners  looked  for  the  lightning 
to  strike  Uncle  Beck  dead  in  his  tracks  for  his  sacri 
lege,  but  after  sixty  seconds  of  clear  skies  they  re 
turned  to  the  charge: 

"Wa-al,  whar's  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  now?  Hit's  easy 
to  see  she  ain't  here  bein'  sociable  with  her  neigh 
bors,"  Dilsey  Sellers  asked. 

"Wa-al,  Dilsey,"  replied  the  old  man  with  his 
characteristic  slowness,  "Ma'y  'Lizbeth  weren't 
raised  up  here,  an'  she  ain't  learned  that  hit's  part  of 
her  Sunday  duty  to  help  scandalize  other  women;  so 
jest  at  present,  she  is  readin'  to  your  blind  sister  what 
you  left  all  by  herself.  I  stopped  an'  passed  the 
time  o'  the  day  with  'em  when  I  come  by."  Uncle 
Beck  had  stepped  through  the  window,  and  now 
stood  with  his  gaunt  figure  drawn  up  to  its  full  height. 
He  was  looking  straight  at  Dilsey. 

"A  readin'  book,  I  reckon!"  sneered  the  other,  in 
a  desperate  attempt  to  recover; 

"No,  the  Bible,  Dilsey." 

"Uncle  Beck,"  the  ample  hostess  put  in  uneasily, 
"you  'lowed  you  was  goin'  to  tell  me  what  to  do  for 
that  shoat  what's  done  took  sick.  Can't  you  step 
out  to  the  lot  an'  take  a  look  at  him?  "  The  old  man 
hesitated.  He  seemed  not  to  have  finished  what  he 
had  to  say,  but  he  ended  by  following  the  younger 
Mrs.  Thaggin  to  the  back  lot. 

"Uncle  Beck,"  said  the  woman,  resting  her  arms 
on  the  fence  of  the  hog-pen,  but  giving  never  a  glance 
at  the  shoat  inside,  "  Uncle  Beck,  I'm  pestered  'bout 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth." 


1 88        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"So  am  I,  Melissa." 

"What  you  reckon  she  done  that  way  this  mornin' 
for?" 

"Tut — tut!  Nothin'  serious!  Like  as  not  she 
was  mad  at  somethin'  MUlie  Davis  had  said  to  her. 
She's  that  sot  in  her  principles  that  ef  she'd  got  her 
temper  up  at  anybody  she  wouldn't  a-thought  hit 
right  to  commune." 

"Uncle  Beck,  you  always  was  consolin'." 

"Wa-al,  thar  ain't  much  consolation  to  be  got  out 
of  the  siterwation  now,  Melissa.  Hit's  mighty  serious 
that  them  women's  tongues  have  got  to  waggin'  about 
her.  Can't  you  do  somethin'  for  her?" 

"I'll  make  ma  keep  her  mouth  shet.  An' — an' — 
yes,  I'll  send  Sue  to  school.  That'll  show  people 
where  I  stand.  Uncle  Beck — Ma'y  'Lizbeth  is  a 
good  girl,  ain't  she?" 

"As  good  as  they  make  'em." 

"  Then  I'll  stand  by  her." 

"You  always  was  a  good  gal  yourself,  Melissa. 
Say,  why  can't  you  take  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  to  boa'd?  I 
couldn't  he'p  overhearin'  what  Mis'  Davis  said  'bout 
Bud  an'  Babe  bein'  sot  ag'inst  each  other  about  her. 
Hit  ain't  right  to  bring  trouble  between  them  two." 

"La!  Uncle  Beck,  I'd  do  it  ef  hit  were  jes  only 
me;  but  Shan  he  wouldn't  'low  it.  He's  done  been 
sot  ag'inst  her  by  ma,  an'  he  won't  b'lieve  nothin' 
good  of  her.  An'  you  know  how  hectorin'  men  air 
what  ain't  right  smart  in  their  minds." 

"Wa-al,  wa-al,  we'll  have  to  do  some  other  way," 
he  acquiesced,  kindly. 

"Uncle  Beck,  Mis'  Davis  said  jes  now  that  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         189 

trustees  was  talkin'  'bout  turnin'  Ma'y  'Lizbeth 
outen  the  school!" 

The  old  man  removed  his  spectacles,  polished  them 
hard  on  his  ostentatious  Sunday  handkerchief,  and, 
readjusting  them  on  his  nose,  looked  at  the  woman 
with  grave  concern. 

"I'm  one  of  the  trustees,  myself,  Melissa,  an'  I 
ain't  heerd  of  no  dissatisfaction  except  from  Mr. 
Sykes." 

"Aunt  Millie  seemed  to  think  that  Mr.  Williams 
was  at  the  bottom  of  hit." 

"Wa-al,  wa-al,  Trav  can't  for  the  life  of  him  for 
give  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  for  bein'  Welchel  Dale's  child," 
he  said,  by  way  of  reminiscence,  "but  I'll  be  at  any 
meetin'  they  hold,  an'  I  promise  you  I'll  make  things 
interestin'  ef  they  pester  her.  I'm  afeard  I'm  goin' 
to  have  to  read  'em  the  riot  act  ag'in,  Melissa.  Lord, 
Lord,  but  a  man  oughtn't  to  have  to  tell  his  neighbors 
the  truth  more'n  onct  in  a  lifetime!" 

"Ain't  that  so,  Uncle  Beck!" 

"Melissa,  what's  this  'bout  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  an'  that 
man  Marshall?" 

"I  don't  know  nothin'  but  what  you  heerd  Aunt 
Millie  say  'bout  his  th'owin'  off  on  her.  But  all  the 
neighbors  has  been  talkin'  'bout  how  much  she's 
been  a-goin'  with  him.  My  Tony  says  he  keeps  a 
horse  an'  saddle  for  her,  an'  is  always  a-sendin'  her 
candy  an'  things  what  he  has  to  have  sont  to  him 
from  away  from  here.  Of  course,  Uncle  Beck,  I 
b'lieve  hit's  all  right  so  far  as  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  is 
concerned,  but  I  wouldn't  trust  that  overbearin' 


190        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

stranger  no  further  than  I  could  sling  a  wild-cat  by 
the  tail."  "An'  me  neither,  Melissa." 

"Wa-al,  anyhow,  hit  seems  to  be  broke  off  now, 
an'  I'm  glad  of  it." 

"Yes,  yes,  that's  good.  Now  ef  you'll  only  sorter 
take  her  under  your  wing  all  this  talk  will  die  down." 

"Yes,  but  I'm  'feard  I  won't  be  here  long  enough 
to  see  to  it." 

"Melissa  Thaggin,  air  you  a-losin'  your  mind?" 

"No-o-o — Uncle  Beck,  don't  tell  a  soul,  hear? — but 
Shan  is  'bout  to  sell  our  place  an'  move  us  all  outen 
the  valley." 

"The  land  o'  Goshen!"— then  suddenly— "Who 
to,  Melissa?" 

"That  very  same  man.  He's  done  offered  Shan  a 
sight  o'  money,  an'  ef  ma  don't  give  trouble,  we'll 
close  the  trade.  Shan's  done  told  ma  she's  got  to 
put  her  cross  mark  to  the  papers,  but  she  ain't 
quite  come  round  yit.  Shee-e-e — !"  putting  her 
finger  to  her  lips,  "here  come  Shan  an'  the  others. 
Don't  say  a  word  'bout  what  I  told  you,  hear?  Mr. 
Marshall  made  us  promise  to  keep  the  trade  on  the 
quiet  tell  we  pick  up  an'  leave." 

"I'll  keep  quiet,  Melissa,  but  ef  you  know  when 
you  air  well  off,  you  won't  sign  no  papers  to  that 
man  tell  he  shows  his  hand.  Somehow,  I  mistrust 
all  this  secrecy." 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THAT  there  was  something  in  the  wind  that  night 
besides  the  wail  of  the  dying  forest  and  the  sharp, 
cold  needles  of  rain,  even  the  youngest  Thaggin 
could  feel  by  the  intuition  of  fear  that  was  his;  so 
it  was  small  wonder  that  he  stayed  awake  till  the 
unearthly  hour  of  seven  o'clock,  and  increased  the 
general  hubbub  by  the  size  of  his  year-old  voice. 

Something  was  going  to  happen,  that  was  plain. 
The  house  had  had  an  additional  scrubbing  and  tidy- 
ing-up,  and  Grandma  and  the  mother  had  arrayed 
themselves  in  their  best  linsey  dresses.  The  lord 
and  master  of  the  house  had  been  importuned  to  don 
his  Sunday  collar,  but  had  flatly  refused — there  was 
a  grain  of  comfort  in  that.  From  Sue  to  the  baby 
the  children  were  keyed  up  to  the  highest  pitch  of 
excitement. 

But  all  things  come  to  an  end  sooner  or  later;  and 
by  half-past  seven  o'clock  the  last  young  Thaggin 
had  been  tucked  away  safe,  the  trundle-beds  that 
had  been  rolled  out  from  under  the  beds  of  state,  and 
the  boarded-up  bunks  against  the  side  of  one  of  the 
shed  rooms  at  the  back,  being  full  to  the  edges. 

Quiet  now  reigned  in  the  family  circle.  The 
grandmother,  who  was  used  to  being  tucked  away 
with  the  children  at  sundown,  plainly  nodded  in  her 
big  chair  in  spite  of  the  strenuous  efforts  that  had 

191 


192         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

been  made  to  keep  her  "heartened  up"  against  a 
momentous  happening.  The  wife  of  Shan  Thaggin 
plied  her  knitting-needles  in  silence,  but  there  were 
furrows  of  thinking  on  her  erstwhile  placid  brow. 
Shan  sat  with  his  legs  stretched  out  at  length,  toast 
ing  the  bottoms  of  his  feet  by  the  fire  and  vainly 
attempting  to  warm  the  half -frozen  heels  of  them. 

But  the  comfort  and  quietude  on  the  inside  only 
threw  into  sharp  contrast  the  tempestuous  bluster 
without.  November  was  howling  across  the  stripped 
fields,  and  fighting  her  way,  with  wind  and  rain, 
through  the  opposing  ranks  of  the  forest.  It  was 
black  dark. 

The  old  woman  in  the  homespun-covered  chair 
nodded  lower  and  lower,  and  after  a  while  a  dis 
tinct  snore  was  heard.  The  husband  and  wife  looked 
at  each  other  across  the  little  pine  table  and  the  fitful 
firelight  disclosed  a  question  in  the  eyes  of  each. 

"Will  he  come?"  it  asked. 

"Listen  at  that  rain,  Shan,"  the  wife  said  in  half- 


answer. 

f( 


The  likes  o'  him  don't  mind  rain,"  the  man  re 
plied.     "Ef  he  wants  to  trade  as  bad  as  I  think  he 
does,  a  shower  o'  bull-frogs  couldn't  keep  him  away." 
"What  you  goin'  to  teU  him?" 
"I'm  a-goin'  to  ast  him  more  money." 
"Lord,  Shan,  he's  payin'  you  twict  as  much  as  you 
have  been  a-astin'  for  hit,  already!" 

"Yes,  but  ef  he  comes  out  a  night  like  this,  hit'll 
be  a  sign  he  wants  the  place  bad  enough  to  pay  two 
hunderd  more.  An'  you  jes  keep  your  mouth  out 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         193 

while  he's  here.  I  don't  want  any  too  much  jaw 
about  hit,  'cause  I  want  to  make  him  think  we're 
keerless  'bout  tradin'.  Jes  treat  hit  all  offhand-like, 
you  hear?" 

"Of  course,"  said  the  wife,  sympathetically. 
"An'  do  you  think  you  kin  manage  her?"  with  an 
inclination  of  the  head  toward  the  nodding  figure. 

"He's  a-goin'  to  try  his  hand  on  her  to-night.  Ef 
we  can't  make  her  sign,  you've  got  to!" 

"Now  look  a-here,  Shan,  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  hector 
ma  no  more'n  I  have  to.  I've  had  a  hard  'nough 
time  makin'  her  keep  her  mouth  shet  about  this  to 
the  neighbors,  an'  when  hit  comes  to  makin'  her  put 
her  cross  mark  to  them  papers,  you've  got  to  manage 
hit  yourself — you  an'  that  devil-knows- who!  Be 
sides " 

"Besides  what?"  sharply.  But  the  woman  kept 
her  peace. 

"Besides  what,  I  say?"  the  man  snarled  at  her 
across  the  table. 

"Besides,"  she  replied  slowly,  "I  ain't  right  easy 
in  my  mind  'bout  this  piece  o'  business,  nohow.  I 
ain't  as  much  took  up  with  the  idea  of  the  trade 
as  I  was  at  first,  an'  I  don't  see  no  use  in  a-draggin' 
ma  all  the  way  to  town  an'  layin'  her  liable  to  ketch- 
in'  her  death  o'  cold  when  she  could  jest  as  well  sign 
them  papers  here." 

"Ain't  I  done  told  you  that  we  got  to  have  a  wit 
ness  to  the  signin',  an'  we  don't  want  to  let  nobody 
in  these  parts  onto  the  trade?"  the  husband  growled. 

"Why  can't  you  bring  a  witness  from  town?"  the 
woman  asked. 


194        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"B  'cause  he  might  talk  too  much  to  the  folks  he 
met.  I  told  you  what  Mr.  Marshall  said  about  hit." 

"Wa-al,  I  don't  'prove  of  no  such  secrecy.  I  tell 
you,  Shan,  hit  don't  look  nachul  for  him  to  be  so 
skeered  for  his  neighbors  to  know  he's  jes  makin'  a 
simple  trade.  There's  somethin'  back  of  hit,  an'  I 
don't  like  hit." 

"Now  you  jes  let  me  ketch  you  tryin'  to  back 
down,  will  you?" 

"No,  I  won't,"  she  snapped  back,  all  unafraid  of 
the  threatening,  evil  look  he  shot  at  her;  "I  won't 
b'cause  my  word's  done  give.  But  don't  you  think 
hit's  b'cause  I'm  afeard  of  you,  you  little  pusillan 
imous —  There  goes  Sue  in  a  nightmare  ag'in!" 
The  mother  rose  quickly  and  crossed  the  room  to  one 
of  the  big  feather-puffed  beds,  where  the  rosy-cheeked 
Sue  lay  whimpering  in  her  sleep. 

"Hit's  jes  the  kind  o'  night  that  some  folks  thinks 
witches  rides  in."  The  husband  and  father  had 
slouched  across  the  room,  and  stood  for  a  moment 
contemplating  his  eldest-born. 

"Witches — the  cat's  foot!  Hit's  them  green  cab 
bage  stalks  she's  been  a-eatin'.  I  'low  I'll  slap  her 
face  'bout  'em  in  the  mornin'."  But  the  touch  was 
not  ungentle  with  which  she  shifted  the  position  of 
the  dreaming  girl.  The  mother's  hands  lingered  a 
little  on  the  girl's  forehead,  brushing  back  the  brown 
tendrils  that  fell  over  it.  The  father  waited  a 
moment,  too. 

"Shan,"  said  the  mother,  "I'm  a-goin'  to  send  Sue 
to  school!"  There  was  sharp  challenge  in  the  man 
ner  of  her  announcement. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         195 

For  some  reason  the  man  did  not  accept  the  chal 
lenge.  He  seemed  to  be  trying  to  avert  a  contest. 
"Wa-al,"  he  answered,  evasively,  "I  ain't  a-sayin' 
what  I  think  'bout  Sue  an'  schoolin',  b'cause  my 
mind  is  already  done  full  of  a  bigger  plan  for  her." 

"What  plan?"  the  mother  demanded,  coming 
straight  to  the  point. 

"Well,  me  an'  Trav  Williams  was  a-talkin'  to-day 
'bout  how  well  growed  up  she  was,  an'  Trav  told  me 
he  had  a-sort  a-been  takin'  notice  of  her  hisself." 

They  were  moving  toward  the  fire,  and  the  mother 
suddenly  sat  down  in  a  convenient  chair,  overcome 
by  the  bigness  of  her  husband's  news. 

"Now  did  anybody  ever  hear  the  beat  o'  that!" 
she  exclaimed,  but  delighted  pride  wrote  itself  across 
her  every  feature. 

"He's  got  more  land  than  anybody  in  the  valley," 
said  her  husband,  warming  up  to  his  subject,  "an' 
the  storehouse  is  his'n,  an' " 

"An'  he's  got  a  bran'  new  buggy!"  the  wife  put  in. 

"  Yes'n  he's  got  money  in  hidin',  too." 

The  mother  looked  across  the  room  to  where  Sue's 
apple  cheeks  reddened  in  the  sudden  flare  of  the  fire 
light,  and  a  shade  crossed  her  own  glowing  face. 
"Shan,"  she  said,  doubtfully,  "Sue's  jes  turned  four 
teen,  an'  Mr.  Williams  is  older'n  you  by  twelve 
year." 

"Dad  bust  his  age!  What's  that  got  to  do  with 
hit?  Ain't  I  done  told  you  he  can  buy  an'  sell  the 
last  one  of  us?" 

"Yes,"  said  the  mother,  lingeringly,  "but " 


196        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"  But  what?    But  what?  " 

"Oh,  nothin' — but — I  was  jes  wishin'  he  wa'n't  so 
servigrous.  Ef  he  were  jes  a  little  more  peaceable- 
like,  an'  kind,  you  know " 

"I  know  you  ain't  got  a  grain  o'  sense!" 

"I  got  a  long  sight  more  sense'n  you  have!  Of 
course  I  ain't  a-goin'  to  stand  in  the  child's  way, 
but  I  jes  couldn't  help  ruminatin'  in  my  mind  'bout 
Lizzie.  Lord,  Lord,  an'  jes  to  think!  Hit  ain't 
been  but  seven  weeks,  come  a-Monday,  sence  I  holp 
wash  Lizzie  Williams  and  lay  her  out " 

"Wa-al,  a  woman's  as  dead  in  seven  weeks  as 
she'll  ever  be,  ain't  she?  " 

"Oh,  she's  dead  enough  all  right.  I  was  jes 
a-thinkin'  how  glad  she  was  to  die.  Listen!  Was 
that  somebody  comin'?  "  The  two  listened  intently, 
but  nothing  was  heard  except  the  howling  of  the 
November  winds  and  the  swish  of  the  driving  rain. 
When  the  woman  took  up  the  thread  of  conversa 
tion  again,  she  had  dropped  back  into  her  pleased, 
contemplative  mood — verily,  Lizzie  Williams  was  as 
dead  as  ever  a  woman  gets  to  be ! 

"Has  Mr.  Williams  been  a-talkin'  to  Sue  yet?" 
she  queried. 

"Yes,  comin'  home  from  meetin'  this  mornin'. 
That's  what  he  fetched  her  in  his  buggy  for." 

"An'  did  Sue  make  up  to  him?  Did  he  say?" 
She  was  all  excited  interest. 

The  husband  nodded  an  impressive  affirmative. 
The  mere  nodding  of  one's  head  isn't  lying.  Be 
sides,  Shan  was  resolved  to  compel  the  fearful  and 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         197 

cringing  Sue  to  make  good  his  words  so  shortly  that 
the  thing  was  as  good  as  done,  already.  The  wife 
bubbled  over: 

"Now  ain't  that  nice!  An'  did  Mr.  Williams  say 
when  he  thought  they'd  better  stand  up  before  the 
preacher?" 

"Sunday  after  next."  Shan's  new-found  dignity 
came  very  near  impressing  his  wife,  and  that  is 
saying  a  good  deal  for  it. 

"Wa-al,  that  settles  her  goin'  to  school.  I'd 
a-liked  to  'commodate  Uncle  Beck  an'  Ma'y  'Lizbeth, 
but  of  course  hit's  outen  the  question  now." 

"An'  what's  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  got  to  do  with  hit, 
I'd  like  to  know?"  The  man  was  suspicious  in 
stantly. 

"Oh,  nothin',"  said  the  wife,  retreating,  "but  she's 
been  so  good  to  Tony  an'  the  others,  I'd  a-liked  to  let 
her  try  her  hand  on  Sue." 

"Good  to  Tony!  She'd  a  sight  better  lay  the 
hickory  on  him,  like  Mr.  Sykes  says.  He's  been  thar 
to  see  her  teaching  an'  he  p'intedly  told  us  all  at 
meetin'  to-day  that  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  was  jes  nachully 
pamperin'  them  childern  to  death." 

"Yes,  I  know,  Shan,  but  you  'member  we  tried 
Tony  with  that  man  teacher  last  summer,  an'  he 
had  the  boy  shiverin'  an'  cringin'  like  a  houn'  dog. 
Somehow,  I  can't  think  that's  right." 

"Wa-al,  hit  ain't  your  business  to  do  the  thinkin'. 
Hit's  your  doin's,  too,  that  she  hired  Tony  out  to 
hang  round  that  place  o'  Silas's  what  Christian  peo 
ple  ought  to  keep  off'n."  A  sudden  gust  of  wind 


198        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

whipped  around  the  corner  of  the  room  with  a  wild 
shriek,  and  the  two  started  and  looked  at  each  other; 
after  a  momentary  hush,  however,  the  wife  found 
her  tongue. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth  never  hired  Tony  to  nobody,"  she 
declared.  "She  jes  said  she'd  like  for  him  to  he'p 
Mr.  Marshall,  an'  Mr.  Marshall  told  Tony  what  she 
said,  an'  Tony  come  to  me  'bout  hit." 

"An5  you  hired  him." 

"Wa-al,  ef  I  did,  you  git  the  money  for  hit,  an' 
you  make  the  man  pay  more'n  he's  wuth,  too!" 

"You  can't  deny  he  spends  a  lot  o'  time  at  that 
thar  place." 

"Shan,  nothin'  ain't  goin'  to  happen  to  Tony 
along  o'  that  place." — Was  it  the  wind  this  time? — 
"He  never  goes  in  sight  of  hit  unless  Mr.  Marshall 
is  right  thar  with  him.  Mr.  Marshall  hisself  told 
me  hit  were  like  nussin'  a  sick  baby  to  look  after 
Tony,  he  was  that  skeered." 

"What  I  want  to  know  is,  what  business  is  Ma'y 
'Lizbeth  got  a-wantin'  to  git  he'p  for  that  man?" 

There  was  a  fine  disgust  mingled  with  a  glimpse 
of  something  higher  in  the  look  which  the  woman 
gave  him:  "Lord,  but  hit's  hard  to  have  to  be  a 
woman  when  a  man  won't  be  a  man!"  was  her 
answer  to  him,  but  it  passed  over  his  head. 

"Ain't  nobody  ever  told  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  'bout  that 
place  yit?"  he  asked  significantly. 

"No,  but  you  kin  b'lieve  they  will,  they  are  that 
sot  agin  her." 

"Ain't  it  queerlike  an'  creepy  that  she's  gone  an' 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         199 

got  mixed  up  with  hit?" — Some  placeless  thing 
shrieked  again. 

"How  'mixed  up  with  hit'?"  the  wife  demanded, 
but  her  face  had  blanched. 

"I  seen  what  I  seen." 

"No  you  never,  neither!  I  was  on  that  waggin 
with  you,  an'  I  never  seen  her  comin'  outen  the 
door  with  him.  Besides  that,  we  was  way  down 
the  fust  bend  o'  the  road  an'  you  couldn't  a-seen 
that  fur!  An'  let  me  tell  you  somethin',"  she 
continued,  "you've  got  to  git  that  off'n  ma's  mind. 
You  had  no  business  a-tellin'  her  sich  a  tale  an' 
takin'  up  all  o'  my  time  a-keepin'  her  mouth  shet — 
Sh-h-h!" 

The  beat  of  a  horse's  hoofs  resounded  outside, 
and  a  man's  "Hello"  startled  both  to  their  feet. 
The  unusual  sounds,  the  late  hour,  and  the  wild  night, 
blending  with  the  eeriness  of  their  conversation, 
wrought  into  the  moment  a  thrill  of  real  terror.  The 
man  pressed  back  against  the  mantel-shelf.  It  was 
the  woman  who  summoned  courage  to  unbolt  the 
door  and  admit  what  the  fates  had  sent. 

With  the  water  streaming  from  his  mackintosh  in 
rivulets  and  red  mud  bespattering  his  great  boots, 
the  stranger-tenant  of  the  haunted  house  came  in  out 
of  the  darkness  to  ihe  glowing  warmth  of  the  log  fire 
inside.  There  were  pleasant  and  courteous  greetings 
as  the  visitor  divested  himself  of  his  raincoat  and 
stamped  the  red  mud  from  his  boots  at  the  hos 
pitable  threshold.  The  noise  and  stir  roused  the  old 
crone  by  the  fireside,  and  caused  the  apple-red  cheeks 


200        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

of  the  momentarily  awakened  Sue  to  retire  modestly 
under  the  bed-quilt. 

After  having  acquitted  himself  creditably  in  the 
rite  of  the  all-around  handshake,  a  ceremony  which 
has  with  the  hill  people  the  solemnity  of  a  covenant, 
the  stranger  deliberately  drew  up  a  chair  beside 
Grandma  Thaggin,  and  asked  after  her  cough  with 
a  deepness  of  concern  that  flattered  the  old  crone  into 
almost  instant  capitulation.  Grandma  told  him 
literally  all  about  it,  for  when  her  daughter-in-law 
would  have  interfered,  Marshall  signalled  to  her  to 
let  the  old  woman  talk;  so,  for  once  since  her  son's 
marriage,  grandma  was  granted  the  right  of  unlim 
ited  self-expression.  Since  this  visit  of  the  stranger's 
was  primarily  for  the  purpose  of  placating  the  old 
lady,  the  younger  woman  was  fain  to  give  way, 
though  with  deep  misgivings.  However,  she  seized 
the  first  opportunity  which  offered  itself  after  her 
mother-in-law  had  diagnosed  her  malady  to  the  mi 
nutest  detail,  to  remark: 

"You  don't  let  a  bad  night  stop  you  from  impor 
tant  business,  do  you,  Mr.  Marshall?  " 

"Well,  the  business  didn't  so  much  matter,"  he 
replied  in  an  off-hand  way,  "but  I  was  afraid  I'd 
keep  you  folks  up,  looking  for  me,  and  I  knew  that 
your  mother  here  ought  not  to  have  her  rest  broken." 
The  old  woman's  eyes  sparkled  with  delight.  For 
the  first  time  in  her  life-drama  she  was  centre  of  the 
stage. 

"Now  that  were  ra-al  considerate  of  you,  hit  sho 
were,"  she  wheezed.  "Shan  'lowed  as  how  you 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         201 

wouldn't  come  out  in  this  pesky  weather  lessen  you 
wanted  to  trade  mighty  bad."  Her  daughter-in- 
law's  mute  lips  signalled  "hush"  to  her  from  behind 
the  visitor's  back. 

"No-o-o,"  said  the  stranger,  deliberately.  "The 
fact  is,  I  have  been  hesitating  myself  lately.  Mr. 
Logan  has  offered  me  his  farm,  and  since  taking  a 
look  at  it,  I  am  very  much  in  the  notion  of  buying  it. 
Logan  has  kept  up  his  property  so  well." 

"Thar  ain't  no  better-kept  farm  in  the  country 
than  this  one  right  here,"  declared  the  woman  who 
ten  minutes  before  had  thought  she  was  not  anxious 
to  trade,  and  she  and  her  husband  exchanged  glances. 
Shan  got  up  and  then  sat  down  again. 

"Oh,  well,  I  as  good  as  told  you  the  other  morn 
ing  that  I  would  trade  if  we  could  get  the  titles 
fixed  all  right,  so  I  suppose  I'll  have  to  live  up  to 
my  promise." 

"Did  you  find  out  what  you  wanted  about  them 
papers?  Was  they  all  right?"  Shan  asked,  eagerly 
catching  at  renewed  hope. 

"Yes — that  is  to  say — I  guess  we  can  fix  it.  Do 
you  still  want  to  trade?"  The  stranger  put  the 
query  as  if  the  whole  affair  were  a  matter  of  the 
smallest  personal  concern  to  himself. 

In  answer  to  a  desperate  signal  from  his  wife, 
Thaggin  replied  in  the  affirmative. 

"Ain't  I  a-goin'  to  git  nothin'  for  puttin'  my  cross 
mark  to  them  papers?"  It  was  the  old  woman  who 
was  eagerly  questioning. 

"Why,"  began  Marshall,  "half  the  proceeds—" 


202         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

this  time  the  signalled  "hush"  was  directed  at  him, 
and  silenced  him.  A  moment  afterward,  however,  he 
said,  in  reply  to  the  repeated  question:  "Well,  it  is  a 
shame  to  ask  you  to  take  that  long  ride  to  town 
without  getting  something  nice  for  it.  Now  what 
would  you  like  to  have?" 

"Money!" 

"Oh,"  and  he  laughed.  "Well,  'bein's  it's  you/ 
grandma,  I'll  give  you  two  hundred  silver  dollars  if 
you'll  sign  those  papers  and  not  say  a  word  about  it 
to  anybody."  And  he  added  in  an  aside  to  Shan: 
"I'll  let  you  pay  that,  Thaggin,  if  you  really  want 
to  trade.  I'm  going  to  take  it  on  myself  to  see  that 
she  gets  enough  out  of  this  for  her  personal  comfort. 
Put  that  in  your  pipe  and  smoke  it!"  Then  he 
turned  to  the  old  woman  again:  "And  if  you  are 
right  good  and  will  get  ready  for  the  trip  the  first 
fair  day,  we'll  lay  in  a  big  stock  of  cough  medicine 
while  we  are  in  town — as  a  present  from  me,  you 
understand." 

"Now  don't  that  look  like  Providence!"  exclaimed 
the  old  lady.  "My  medicine's  done  plum  out,  an' 
that  triflin'  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  'tended  like  she  couldn't 
buy  me  no  more  tell  she  drawed  her  next  pay." 

"Maybe  she  couldn't."  It  was  the  stranger  who 
spoke,  but  his  voice  had  changed  slightly.  The 
younger  Mrs.  Thaggin  wondered  if  it  were  a  trick 
of  the  firelight  that  gave  his  cold  eyes  a  momentary 
hurt  look. 

"Mebbe  she  lied  'bout  it,  goin'  an'  comin'," 
flashed  the  old  woman.  "  She  told  me  the  fust  time 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         203 

I  sot  eyes  on  her  that  hit  was  already  done  paid 
for!" 

"Mrs.  Thaggin,"  said  the  stranger,  and  this  time 
there  was  no  note  of  placating  in  his  stern  voice,  "I 
know  for  a  certainty  that  Miss  Dale's  guardian  did 
not  supply  her  with  any  money  at  all,  and  that  what 
she  spends  on  you  or  on  anybody  else  is  what  she 
makes  herself.  The  man  who  educated  her  kept 
telling  her  that  she  must  pay  back  what  he  did  for 
her,  and  she  has  taken  a  notion  to  pay  the  debt  by 
giving  the  sum  of  it  to  you  people  here.  That  is 
what  she  means  when  she  says  that  anything  she 
does  for  you  is  already  paid  for.  I  suppose  you 
know  that  her  guardian  died  not  long  ago  without 
leaving  her  anything,  and  that  she  now  hasn't  any 
money  at  all  except  what  she  makes  by  teaching." 

The  green  cabbage  stalks  got  in  another  dig  of 
revenge  on  the  slumbering  Sue  just  at  this  moment, 
and  the  mother's  surveillance  was  momentarily 
diverted  from  the  old  woman.  Grandma  saw  her 
opportunity,  and  leaned  forward  with  a  cunning, 
hideous  leer  as  she  replied: 

"Now  you  ain't  a-foolin'  o'  me.  You  an'  me 
know  whar  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  kin  git  all  the  money  she 
wants!" 

"Where?"  Marshall's  sharp  question  brought 
the  daughter-in-law  to  her  post  again  and  made 
even  the  phlegmatic  Shan  sit  up  suddenly,  wide 
awake.  But  it  was  too  late — grandma  had  taken 
the  bit  between  her  teeth. 

"Whar  can  she  git  all  the  money  she  wants?"  she 


204        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

repeated  to  the  electrified  group.  "  Git  it  whar  she 
gits  all  her  candy  an'  goodies  an'  that  thar  ridin' 
horse  an' " 

"Shut  that  up,  or  by  God!  I'll " 

Marshall  had  sprung  to  his  feet  and  slung  aside  a 
chair  that  intervened  between  himself  and  Shan 
Thaggin.  The  other  had  started  up,  too,  and  was 
cowering  and  shivering  against  the  mantel-shelf. 

"You  answer  me,  you!"  the  terrible  stranger 
raged  at  him.  "Does  that  woman  know  what  she's 
saying?" 

"She  knows  what  ever'body  in  the  neighborhood 
is  savin',"  screamed  the  old  woman,  but  this  time 
the  daughter-in-law  shut  her  up  literally  by  clap 
ping  her  strong  hand  over  her  mouth  and  holding  it 
there. 

"I  ain't  got  nothin'  'tall  to  do  with  hit,"  chat 
tered  Thaggin  between  his  uncontrollable  teeth. 
"Hit's  all  women's  talk — hit  ain't  none  o'  me!" 

"Well,  by  the  Lord  Harry,  I'll  give  you  something 
to  do  with  it!"  Marshall  was  whiter  than  the  shiv 
ering  creature  before  him,  but  with  a  whiteness  that 
augured  ill  for  the  thing  that  was  in  his  path.  "I'll 
give  you  something  to  do  with  it!  Now  then!  You 
keep  these  women's  mouths  shut  on  that  subject 
or  I'll  beat  you  into  a  jelly!  Understand?  Don't 
you  ever  let  anybody  hear  again  one  breath  from  one 
of  them  against  that  girl " 

"La,  mister!" — the  younger  Mrs.  Thaggin  had 
released  her  hold  on  the  old  woman's  mouth  to 
throw  herself  between  her  cowering  husband  and 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         205 

the  enraged  stranger — "la,  mister,  Shan  ain't  been 
sayin'  a  thing!  Please,  sir,  don't  hurt  him!" 

Shan  seized  the  circumstance  of  his  wife's  inter 
vention  to  put  temptation  out  of  the  stranger's  way 
by  decamping  through  the  back  door  into  the  rainy 
darkness  as  fast  as  his  wabbly  legs  would  carry  him. 
With  Shan  out  of  harm's  way,  the  old  mother  got 
in  a  last  shot: 

"I  know  one  mouth  what  you  can't  shet — you 
limb  o'  Satan! — Millie  Davis  won't  be  takin'  her 
orders  from  you,  an'  when  she  makes  that  gal  move 
outen  her  house  like  she  says  she's  a-goin'  to,  ever'- 
body  in  the  countryside  will  know  why!" 

The  younger  woman  clapped  her  hand  over  the 
other's  mouth  again  and  looked  up  to  see  that  the 
stranger's  face  had  grown  ashen.  He  turned  without 
another  word,  flung  on  his  raincoat,  and  strode  out 
of  the  door.  Before  he  could  release  the  lighted 
lantern  from  the  nail  on  which  he  had  left  it  hanging 
in  the  entry,  however,  Shan  Thaggin's  wife  was  by 
his  side. 

"Mister,"  she  said  pleadingly,  "I — I — don't  want 
you  to  think  I  been  talkin'  'bout  Ma'y  'Lizbeth! 
Hit  ain't  b'cause  I'm  skeered  o'  you  that  I  say  it. 
I'm  jes  mortal  sorry  for  the  child,  an'  I  know  hit's  all 
black  lies  that  they're  a-tellin'  on  her " 

The  man  raised  the  lighted  lantern  to  her  face  to 
find  that  her  eyes  were  streaming  with  tears.  An 
answering  something  softened  the  blaze  of  his  own. 

"They  are  all  black  lies  they  are  telling  on  her," 
he  said,  with  visible  emotion.  "She  is  the  purest 
woman  in  the  whole  world!" 


206        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"I  know  it — I  know  it — "  Melissa  Thaggin  was 
saying  to  him,  "an'  I  done  promised  Uncle  Beck 
Login  to  befriend  her — but  you  see  what  I've  got 
ag'inst  me — "  she  was  wiping  away  the  tears  as  she 
spoke.  The  stranger's  eyes  suddenly  took  on  a  re 
flective  expression. 

"Why,  you  are  the  one  that  Babe  Davis  told  me 
was  her  friend,"  he  said,  kindly.  "I'm  sorry  for 
your  sake  that  I  had  to  raise  this  devil's  row  to 
night.  But  your  husband  will  have  to  control  his 
mother's  tongue,  let  him  know  that." 

"I'll  do  hit,  mister,  I  give  you  my  word  I  will. 
She  ain't  never  to  open  her  head  ag'inst  Ma'y  'Liz- 
beth  ag'in  while  the  world  stands!  An' — an' — say, 
mister,  the  trade  ain't  off,  is  hit?"  Something  kin 
dled  in  the  man's  eyes  that  as  quickly  died.  His 
face  was  uninterested  as  the  woman  pleaded  fur 
ther:  "We  done  kinder  made  our  plans, — an'  we'd 
hate  mighty  bad  to  lose  out  now.  Ef  you  jes 
wouldn't  pay  no  'tention  to  ma,  I'd  keep  her  shet 
up,  I  sho  would." 

"Why,"  said  the  stranger,  thoughtfully,  "this 
hasn't  anything  to  do  with  the  trade  as  far  as  I  am 
concerned,  but  it  will  surprise  me  if  the  old  woman 
can  be  persuaded  to  sign  the  deeds  now." 

"Leave  that  to  me  an'  Shan,  mister." 

"All  right,  I'll  pay  you  your  money  when  the 
papers  are  signed — every  dollar  of  it  cash,  remember 
that.  But  this  talk  about  Mary  Elizabeth  has  got 
to  stop,  now  and  forever;  keep  that  with  you  before 
everything  else.  I  don't  want  ever  to  hear  another 
breath  of  it.  Understand?" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         207 

The  woman's  eyes  took  on  their  scared  look  again, 
and  she  protested: 

"La,  mister,  you  ain't  a-goin'  to  blame  hit  all  on 
us!  I  kin  keep  ma  shet  up  like  I  told  you,  an' 
Shan's  done  got  his  dost;  but  you  can't  stop  a  whole 
passel  o'  women  from  talkin',  you  know  that  your- 
se'f." 

His  face  went  white  again.  "Mrs.  Thaggin,"  he 
said,  in  a  moment,  "why  should  they  condemn  that 
child  on  such  ridiculously  slight  evidence?  Isn't  it 
that  they  are  just  prejudiced  anyhow,  and  are  glad 
to  seize  on  any  story  against  her?" 

"Of  course,  mister,  that's  exactly  hit." 

"Well,  isn't  there  any  way  under  the  sun  to  sweep 
away  this  old  prejudice — the  foundation  of  all  this 
enmity?  Wouldn't  the  people  come  to  their  senses 
and  judge  her  rightly  if  that  could  be  done?" 

Suddenly,  with  a  grip  that  startled  the  woman,  he 
grasped  her  shoulder  and  exclaimed  tensely:  "Say, 
if  she  were  to  do  some  great  good  thing  for  the  peo 
ple — if  she  were  to  do  something  which  proved  that 
her  whole  heart  was  with  them  against — against  me 
and  my  interests — against  everything  that  I  could 
do  to  the  contrary — wouldn't  that  win  them  over  to 
her?  Wouldn't  it?  Wouldn't  that  show  them  that 
this  infernal  talk  is  a  lie?" 

"Why,  sho,  mister,  but  that  ain't  likely  to  hap 
pen,"  and  her  eyes  rilled  with  tears  again. 

But  the  man  was  for  some  reason  intensely  ex 
cited.  "Good-by,"  he  exclaimed,  as  if  some  over 
mastering  impulse  had  seized  his  will  and  were 


208        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

driving  him  forward.  "Good-by.  Be  good  to  her, 
now,  will  you?  Won't  you  be  good  to  her?" 

When  John  Marshall  rode  through  the  Thaggins' 
lowered  bars  that  night  and  set  his  face  against  the 
driving  sleet  and  rain,  one  idea  possessed  him,  and 
only  one.  The  hardening  sleet  beat  against  his 
breast,  but  his  heart  was  on  fire.  He  took  wind  and 
rain  and  ice-needles,  head-on,  realizing  little  and 
fearing  less  the  fury  with  which  they  opposed  him, 
for  the  storm  that  raged  within  him  dwarfed  their 
angry  onslaughts  till  he  was  scarcely  conscious  that 
they  assailed.  The  very  play  of  the  wild  lightning 
threatened  in  vain. 

He  did  not  think.  He  was  too  deeply  stirred  to 
think,  but  every  fibre  of  his  being  was  sentient  of 
one  great  fact. 

No,  it  was  not  the  sudden  blast  right  out  of  the 
north  that  set  his  strong  jaw  with  sinews  of  iron,  that 
sent  that  fierce  riot  through  his  veins;  the  night, 
with  its  sleet  and  rain  and  wind  and  fire,  was  merely 
an  incident! 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WINTER  had  smiled  again.  In  the  warmth  of  but 
three  fleeting  hours  of  sunshine  the  sleet  had  gone 
from  the  hills,  the  winds  were  still,  and  the  bare, 
brown  bushes  had  begun  to  dream  good  resolutions 
of  turning  over  new  leaves. 

Only  last  night  the  north  wind  had  swept  the  little 
valley  with  a  rain  of  ice;  but  this  morning,  if  there 
was  any  air  at  all  astir,  it  was  a  tender  breath  right 
out  of  the  South.  It  was  winter's  day  of  atonement, 
and  nothing  was  lacking  from  the  scene  to  make 
amends  for  her  cruelty  of  the  night  before.  Even  that 
flock  of  gray  doves,  glinting  across  the  landscape  in 
the  shimmering  sunlight,  seemed  offered  as  an  earnest 
of  peace. 

The  Southern  winter  is  a  tricksy  damsel  and  is  lia 
ble  to  do  almost  anything  at  any  time.  She  has  a  way 
of  hitting  you  hard  one  day,  and  laughing  at  you  the 
very  next — pretending  that  she  didn't  mean  it  and  is 
hurt  with  you  that  you  can't  take  a  joke.  It  is  a 
favorite  prank  of  hers  to  furnish  out-of-door  roses  for 
the  Christmas  table,  then  coat  the  ungathered  buds 
with  ice  on  the  twenty-sixth  day  of  December;  and 
she  has  an  infernal  little  way  of  coaxing  out  the  peach 
blossoms  long  before  there  is  a  shadow  of  excuse  for 
their  appearance,  and  then  nipping  off  the  young 

209 


210        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

fruit  even  before  the  small  boy  has  had  a  chance  at 
it.  When  she  is  really  spiteful,  she  sends  the  warm 
sap  surging  up  the  young  shrubs  all  out  of  season, 
only  to  condemn  the  too  trusting  plants  themselves 
to  an  everlasting  sleep  in  a  shroud  of  snow  and  ice 
when  they  are  at  her  questionable  mercy. 

On  this  particular  morning,  however,  she  was 
smiling,  placating,  trying  to  make  friends. 

But  the  dreaming  stir  in  the  brown  woods,  the 
promise  of  spring  in  the  air — even  the  symbols  of 
peace  themselves,  softly  lilting  along  the  sunlight — 
were  lost  on  the  man  who  had  breasted  last  night's 
storm  unheeding,  and  was  now  making  his  way,  un 
heeding  still,  to  a  fateful  objective. 

It  was  nine  o'clock  and  after  when  John  Marshall 
spurred  his  horse  across  the  gully  where  the  Davises' 
front  gate  should  have  stood,  and  rode  up  to  the 
front  porch  of  the  cabin  home. 

He  did  not  dismount,  but  helloed  lustily  in  con 
formity  to  the  custom  of  the  hills.  The  door  of  the 
little  porch-room,  which  was  slightly  ajar,  closed 
softly  and  promptly — he  saw  it  because  he  had  not 
been  able  to  keep  his  eyes  off  it.  In  a  minute  or  two 
an  angry-eyed,  hawk-featured  old  woman  opened  the 
door  of  the  main  room  and  came  out  on  the  thresh 
old.  Her  lips  were  parted  to  answer  Marshall's 
hail,  but  as  soon  as  her  piercing  eyes  ran  him  through, 
she  set  her  jaw  in  grim  silence  and  waited  for  him  to 
speak. 

"Is  your  son,  Babe  Davis,  at  home,  madam?" 
That  the  question  was  not  what  she  expected  showed 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         211 

plainly  in  her  hard  old  face.  Taken  by  surprise,  she 
answered,  but  she  bit  off  her  reply  till  its  briefness 
amounted  to  an  affront. 

"Hebe." 

"I  want  to  see  him  on  business;  will  you  be  kind 
enough  to  tell  him  so?" 

"He's  over  yander  on  the  hill  d'arin'  up  the  new 
ground,  ef  you've  got  any  business  with  him."  And 
she  went  in  and  slammed  the  door  behind  her. 
Marshall  turned  his  horse  toward  the  open  and  gave 
him  such  another  impetus  in  the  direction  the  woman 
had  pointed  that  the  old  racing  blood  in  him  leaped 
in  answer,  and  he  took  the  long,  low  hill  at  a  flying 
run. 

Both  horse  and  rider  were  breathing  hard  when 
they  reached  the  summit,  and  stopped,  almost  too 
suddenly,  in  a  partially  cleared  field — within  twenty 
feet  of  where  a  strong-limbed,  rusty  native  was  hew 
ing  away  stoutly  at  a  rotting  stump. 

"Hello,  Davis!" 

The  man  stopped  in  his  work  and  came  toward 
him  slowly,  axe  on  shoulder.  Marshall  dismounted, 
flung  his  bridle  over  the  pommel  of  his  saddle,  and 
gave  Selim  a  slap  that  sent  him  cropping  the  dry 
grass  some  yards  away. 

"You  refused  to  shake  hands  with  me  when  we 
met  last,"  said  he. 

"Yes,"  said  the  native. 

"You  didn't  trust  me." 

"No-o-o — yes — "  said  the  native. 

"Davis,"  the  other  continued  after  a  pause,  "it 


212         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

is  necessary  for  us  to  understand  each  other.  I 
told  you  once  that  I  did  not  love  Mary  Elizabeth, 
and  it  was  true  at  the  time  I  said  it.  But — I" — 
and  his  strong  face  became  drawn — "I  love  her  now. 
I  have  told  her  so.  I  have  offered  her  ease  and 
pleasure  and  wealth  in  exchange  for  what  she  con 
siders  her  duty  to  you  people  here.  She  has — re 
fused  me.  I  have  at  all  times  acted  honorably  to 
ward  her —  Do  you  believe  that?" 

The  great  expressionless  eyes  of  the  other  had 
dimmed.  "Yes,  stranger,"  he  answered,  simply; 
"she  'lowed  you  had." 

The  stranger  looked  away  across  the  seared  fields 
for  a  moment  and  then  said: 

"I'm  troubled,  Davis." 

"Is  hit  anything  I  kin  holp  you  about,  stranger?" 

"You  are  the  one  who  can  help." 

"Say  the  word." 

"Davis,  do  you  remember  that  morning  when  you 
came  gunning  for  me,  and  when  I  told  you  that  Mary 
Elizabeth  would  need  us  both  some  day?" 

The  pupils  of  the  other  man's  eyes  were  enlarging; 
he  was  looking  John  Marshall  straight  in  the  face. 

"I  remember." 

"Well,  that  time  has  come." 

"What  you  mean,  mister?    Say  hit  out." 

He  who  had  never  before  been  squeamish  in  his 
choice  of  words,  now  all  suddenly  seemed  to  find  his 
vocabulary  failing  him.  "And  you  haven't  heard 
that  lying  report?"  he  asked  in  a  moment. 

The  crimson  blood  crept  slowly  up  the  throat  of 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         213 

the  rustic  and  spread  over  his  sunburnt  face,  dye 
ing  it  a  yet  deeper  red.  He  gulped  hard  at  a  lump 
in  his  throat  as  he  answered: 

"Yes,  I  heerd  hit.  I'm  jes  layin'  low  tell  I  kin 
find  the  man  what  started  hit.  Did  you  want  me 
to  holp  you  fix  him?" 

"If  a  man  had  started  it,  Davis" — his  clinched 
fist  emphasized  his  words  on  the  top  rail  of  the  fence 
by  which  they  were  standing — "I  wouldn't  need  any 
help.  But  it's  the  women  that  are  talking  it.  Shan 
Thaggin's  wife  told  me  so  herself.  It  was  that  old 
she-devil  there  that  let  out  the  report  to  me.  It 
is  all  my  fault,"  he  continued,  clearing  his  throat 
vigorously;  "it  was  my  unheeding,  selfish  blindness 
that  brought  this  upon  her.  She's  a  baby — she  didn't 
know.  And  I — I  blundered." 

"You  thought  b'cause  you  an'  her  knowed  the 
books,  stranger,  an'  we  didn't,  hit  didn't  make  no 
diffence  what  we'uns  thought." 

"I  may  have  been  fool  enough  to  feel  that,  Davis, 
but  if  I  had  ever  thought  the  matter  out,  I  would  have 
realized  that  your  public  opinion  could  change  the 
face  of  the  whole  world  for  her." 

His  strong,  nervous  hand  was  tearing  at  the  split 
rail  as  he  continued:  "You  see,  she  thinks  she  is  in 
duty  bound  here,  and  that  simply  means  that  she 
is  going  to  stay.  She  is  utterly  dependent  on  your 
people  and  at  their  mercy.  She  has  no  ties  but  these, 
no  chance  of  friends  but  such  as  she  can  make  here. 
And  she  has  no  means  of  support  whatever  but  her 
pitiful  little  wages." 


214        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"  She  makes  good  money,  stranger,  an'  she's  got  a 
good  home  for  as  long  as  she  wants  hit." 

The  stranger  had  turned  away  but  now  suddenly 
faced  about  again.  "Davis,"  he  said,  between  set 
teeth,  "your  mother  is  threatening  to  turn  that  child 
out  of  doors,  disgraced." 

The  ashen-gray  of  the  other  man's  face  was  his 
answer,  and  Marshall  continued,  a  little  quickly: 
"But,  after  all,  that  may  not  occur.  I  believe, 
I  hope,  that  there  will  be  some  happenings  here 
which  will  put  Mary  Elizabeth  right  with  your  peo 
ple.  The  danger  is  they  may  come  too  late  to  save 
her " 

"  Too  late?  "  the  other  interrupted,  hoarsely. 

"  Too  late  to  keep  this  thing  from  breaking  her  heart 
— from  breaking  her  frail  woman's  spirit.  Davis, 
— it's  going  to  kill  her  to  hear  that  slander!" 

"Could  you  an'  me  an'  a  couple  o'  guns  cl'ar  up 
the  siterwation  a  bit,  stranger?" 

"No,  we  can't  shoot  women.  And  a  move  on  our 
part  now  would  be  the  surest  way  of  sending  the 
whole  damnable  story  to  her." 

"Then,  stranger,  what  must  I  holp  you  do?" 

"Help  me  to  keep  her  from  knowing  of  this  talk 
till  she  is  put  right  with  the  people  and  their  infernal 
gossip  is  swallowed  up  in  gratitude.  Silence  that 
mother  and  that  brother  of  yours " 

"You're  a-talkin'  'bout  my  mother  an'  my  brother, 
stranger." 

"  I  am  talking  for  the  girl  who  has  no  brother,  and 
to  the  man  who,  with  his  gun  across  his  saddle, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        215 

warned  me  that  he  was  going  to  stand  to  her  in  the 
place  of  one." 

The  blood  had  receded  from  the  face  of  the  other 
man,  leaving  it  blue-white  about  his  pinched  nos 
trils,  but  he  looked  John  Marshall  steadily  in  the  eye 
as  he  returned,  quietly:  "Say  on,  stranger." 

Then  Marshall  told  him  Horton's  camp  story 
about  the  death  of  Welchel  Dale;  but  he  saw  no 
surprise  in  the  eyes  of  the  man  until  he  named  the 
murderers. 

In  the  startled  expression  of  the  rustic,  fear  fol 
lowed  quickly  on  the  heels  of  surprise,  and  then 
conviction — which,  however,  repudiated  any  forgive 
ness  for  Marshall's  having  recited  the  unwelcome 
truth — suffused  the  whole.  Marshall  caught  the  look 
and  its  meaning. 

"Davis,"  he  said  with  sudden  emphasis,  "if  we 
are  to  take  care  of  Mary  Elizabeth,  we  will  have  to 
put  ourselves  and  our  personal  feelings  out  of  the 
question.  We  must  think  only  of  her,  and  keep  her 
before  us  till  we  go  to  the  bottom  of  this  and  learn 
what  to  do  for  her.  Mary  Elizabeth,"  he  continued 
— perhaps  he  repeated  the  name  on  purpose  to  exorcise 
the  demon  he  saw  rise  in  the  spotted  face  of  the  other 
man — "  Mary  Elizabeth,  being  the  child  of  that  man, 
has  inherited,  so  to  speak,  the  hatred  of  both  your 
brother  and  Trav  Williams.  It  must  be  that  way, 
for  there  is  absolutely  nothing  in  what  the  girl  her 
self  has  done  to  warrant  their  hate.  Now  this  is 
why  I  tell  you  an  ugly  truth  about  your  own  brother: 
I  know  that  when  these  people  generally  come  to 


216        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

find  out  what  Mary  Elizabeth  is  doing  for  them — 
and  they  will  find  out,  for  she  is  going  to  tell  them  in 
spite  of  me — they  will  be  crazy  about  her;  but  I  am 
not  at  all  sure  that  Williams  and  Bud  Davis  will  ever 
cease  to  hate  her.  I  hope  that  they  will,  but  I  am 
doubtful.  Now,  if  they  do  not,  they  are  likely  to 
concoct  some  other  devilish  scheme  against  her  even 
if  this  one  fails." 

Babe  Davis  was  struggling  to  speak,  but  his  throat 
and  lips  were  dry.  After  an  effort  he  said  hoarsely: 

"I  ain't  gone  nowhar." 

"No,  nor  I  either.  Now,  see  here,  I'm  hoping  that 
when  the  truth  is  known  everything  will  be  all  right, 
and  that  this  talk  will  die  a  natural  death  without 
Mary  Elizabeth's  ever  hearing  it.  But  if  it  doesn't, 
Davis,  if  it  doesn't,  that's  what  you  and  I  have  got 
to  take  care  of." 

Again  the  name  of  Mary  Elizabeth  worked  its 
magic,  and  Babe  replied:  "I'm  ready,  stranger,  but 
how?" 

"God  knows!" 

"Ef  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  wa'n't  so  wilful " 

"If  she  only  wasn't!" 

"We  kin  tell  better  when  the  time  comes." 

"Yes,  yes,  but  in  the  meantime,  can  you  handle 
the  situation  there  at  home?  Can  you  keep  your 
mother  and  Bud  from  telling  her  that  damned 
scandal? — Nobody  else  is  apt  to  repeat  it  to  her." 

"I've  kept  'em  from  blabbin'  it  to  her  so  fur, 
stranger,  but  ma's  'bout  to  bust." 

"Well,  keep  her  quiet  at  any  cost.    And  you, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         217 

Davis,  when  Mary  Elizabeth  tells  what  she  knows 
about  me,  make  much  of  the  fact  that  she  has  sided 
with  you  all  against  me — that's  what  is  going  to  save 
the  situation,  if  anything  can." 

Something  that  had  flickered  once  or  twice  in  the 
dull  eyes  of  the  rustic  now  struggled  to  light  up 
again  as  Marshall  continued:  "And  don't  let  any 
lingering  memory  of  the  fact  that  you  and  I  have 
a  friendly  agreement  on  this  subject,  make  you  spare 
me  any,  in  speaking  of  me  to  the  others,  if  that  will 
help  the  child  herself.  It  may  be  that  the  blacker 
I  am  painted,  the  more  they  will  realize  what  she  is 
struggling  to  do  for  them." 

Selim  had  strayed  up  to  within  reach,  and  Marshall 
laid  hold  of  the  bridle  and  put  his  foot  in  the  stirrup. 
As  he  drew  himself  up  into  the  saddle,  Babe  Davis 
asked,  with  his  dull  eyes  alight  now: 

"Stranger,  what  in  the  hell  have  you  been  doin'?" 

The  stranger  looked  down  at  him  with  something 
akin  to  regret  in  his  fine  eyes.  "Something  that 
Mary  Elizabeth  has  opposed  me  in  every  step  of  the 
way,  for  your  sakes,"  he  replied. 

"What?" 

"  Mary  Elizabeth  will  tell  you — will  tell  you  in  spite 
of  me —  But — say,  Davis,  haven't  we  got  enough 
of  the  man  in  us  to  stand  together  in  befriending  her, 
even  though  we  should  be  against  each  other  in  other 
things?" 

"Hit  strikes  me  that  we  have,  stranger." 

"Then,  no  matter  what  else  happens  between  us, 
can  I  depend  on  you  to  join  me  if  at  any  time  there 


218        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

is  anything  we  can  do  for  her?  And  will  you  keep  me 
informed  as  to  how  things  are  going  with  her?" 

"You  kin  depend  on  me." 

"Davis,  if  she  should  need  any  money — I " 

"So  could  I,  stranger,  an'  I'm  closter  to  her  than 
you  air." 

There  were  several  minutes  of  silence  between  them, 
and  then  the  stranger  said,  in  a  voice  that  had  in  it 
a  distinct  note  of  sadness : 

"Davis,  I  shall  be  sorry  to  lose  your  friendship." 

And  he  turned  his  horse  into  the  way  that  he  had 
come,  and  rode  at  an  unsafe  speed  straight  back  to 
the  Davis  cabin. 

Arrived  at  the  steps  again,  he  did  not  hello,  but 
instead  dismounted  at  the  porch,  and,  presenting 
himself  at  the  door  which  the  hawk-eyed  old  woman 
had  slammed  against  him  less  than  an  hour  before, 
knocked  loudly  for  entrance.  At  a  quavering  "  Come 
in"  from  within,  he  pushed  the  sagging  door  open 
and  entered. 

It  was  the  first  time  that  he  had  been  inside  the 
cabin,  and  the  strangeness  of  the  place,  and  the  seem 
ing  darkness  of  it — for  he  had  come  in  out  of  the 
glare  of  the  morning  sunlight — confused  his  sight  for 
a  moment. 

In  the  next,  however,  his  vision  cleared,  and  he 
saw  before  him,  backed  against  the  side  of  the 
large  chimney-piece  as  if  for  support  in  face  of  his 
effrontery,  the  girl  who  held,  to  every  spark  of  chiv 
alry  within  him,  the  most  delicate,  the  most  peculiar 
claim. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         219 

The  light  that  struggled  through  the  deep  cabin 
window  fell  directly  upon  her.  It  seemed  to  Mar 
shall  that  she  was  more  ethereal,  more  spiritually 
beautiful  than  ever  before;  and  he  in  all  whose 
universe  was  never  a  niche  for  haloed  saints,  sud 
denly  felt  that  he  would  like  to  concentrate  the  rays 
behind  her  pure  and  perfect  face. 

That  girl!  And  that  story !  The  man's  blood 
went  booming  and  pounding  through  the  brain  of 
him.  It  was  a  question  whether  he  could  command 
the  proper  even  calm  of  voice  in  speaking  to  her. 

She  was  looking  straight  at  him  now. — No,  she  had 
not  heard  the  story! 

"I  have  come  to  tell  you,"  he  found  himself  saying 
very  gently,  "that  I  release  you  from  all  obligation 
to  silence  concerning  anything  that  you  have  learned 
about  me  or  from  me.  It  is  not  too  late  for  you 
to  save  the  cause  of  your  people;  but  to  do  it,  you 
will  have  to  win  them  all  to  your  side.  You  will 
have  to  show  them  that  your  whole  heart  is  with 
them — because — because — they  are  suspicious,  you 
know.  Williams  and  Bud  Davis,  here,  and  Sykes 
could  help  you  most,  if  you  would  go  at  them  right 
— if  you  would  make  friends  with  them." 

"Oh,  don't/" 

The  exclamation  seemed  to  have  slipped  out  un 
awares.  The  girl  who  said  it  and  the  man  who 
heard  it  looked  at  each  other.  The  triumphant  joy 
that  he  had  expected  to  see  spring  to  her  eyes  was 
swallowed  up  in  something  that  he  did  not  under 
stand. 


220        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Just  then  the  sound  of  an  opening  door  at  the 
back  drew  the  girl's  glance  away,  but  Marshall  did 
not  look  around.  He  guessed  shrewdly  that  some 
one  had  opened  the  door  to  listen,  so  he  pretended 
not  to  hear  the  interruption.  When  he  spoke,  he 
purposely  raised  his  voice  so  that  it  could  be  dis 
tinctly  heard,  and  he  chose  his  words  with  his  mind 
on  the  unseen  listener. 

"I  am  sorry  that  our  pleasant  little  association  is 
at  an  end,  Miss  Dale,  but  since  you  choose  to  be  a 
friend  to  these  people  here  instead  of  a  friend  to  me, 
of  course — as  you  wrote  me  yourself — there  is  nothing 
more  to  be  said  between  us."  He  bowed  courteously, 
but  distantly,  and  withdrew  from  the  room. 

He  was  descending  the  steps,  Mary  Elizabeth  could 
hear  him  as  he  went;  he  was  mounting  Selim  now,  for 
the  creaking  of  the  saddle  announced  the  fact;  and 
now  he  was  riding  away ! 

Mary  Elizabeth  laid  hold  of  the  mantel-shelf,  for 
the  floor  beneath  her  was  threatening  to  give  way. 
Aunt  Millie  came  in  from  the  back  porch  and  looked 
at  her  hard  and  long,  but  the  girl  scarcely  gave  her 
a  thought.  Almost  in  a  daze  she  slipped  out  of  the 
room,  and  sought  refuge  among  the  friendly  pillows 
of  her  own  little  bed  where  none  could  come  and 
stare  curiously  at  her,  where  she  could  puzzle  out 
what  had  happened  to  her. 

She  was  thinking  of  John  Marshall  and  of  what 
he  had  said  to  her;  but,  strange  to  say,  it  was 
no  thought  of  the  coveted  privilege  he  had  at  last 
granted  that  most  engaged  her.  It  was  what  he 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         221 

had  said  in  parting  that  filled  all  her  conscious 
thought.  "Our  pleasant  little  association,"  he  had 
called  those  idyllic  days  in  which — the  world  forget 
ting — they  had  spent  hours  and  hours  together  with 
nothing  more  to  be  desired,  at  least  by  one  of  them. 

That  there  was  "nothing  more  to  be  said  between 
them,"  was  one  thing  for  her  to  say;  but  for  him  to 
accept  it  as  a  finality,  for  him  to  be  willing  to  say  it 
for  himself ! — she  told  the  rest  to  the  pillow  in  which 
she  buried  her  face. 

But  after  a  time  it  came  to  pass  that  Mary  Eliza 
beth  had  to  give  account  of  herself.  That  was  when, 
the  storm  abated,  she  sat  up  on  the  side  of  the  bed, 
and,  with  her  burning  cheeks  in  her  hands,  demanded 
an  explanation  from  herself. 

Why  had  the  sunlight  faded  just  because  John 
Marshall  had  accepted  what  she  had  been  trying  to 
force  on  him  ever  since  her  eyes  had  been  opened? 
Why  should  she,  who  had  never  compromised  with 
dishonor,  give  one  instant's  further  thought  to  him? 

Why  had  he  come  to  her  with  what  he  had 
brought?  And  was  it  possible — just  Heaven,  was  it 
possible — that  she  did  not  wish  to  disclose  his  vil 
lainy? — that  she  was  sorry  he  had  given  her  permis 
sion  to  speak? 

Her  head  sank  lower  in  her  hands,  but  the  crimson 
of  her  burning  cheeks  crept  out  beyond  her  screening 
fingers  and  tinged  even  her  white  forehead  with  the 
color  of  shame.  A  shower  of  brown  curls,  released 
by  a  falling  comb,  dropped  about  her  bowed  face 
as  if  to  hide  from  the  eyes  of  honest  day  the  face 


222         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

of  a  girl  who  was  all  but  ready  to  betray  her  own 
people — who,  down  in  the  deepest  depths  of  the  false 
heart  of  her,  yearned  to  turn  traitor  to  the  cause 
to  which  she  had  been  consecrated  by  a  memory 
that  would  not  die. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

WHEN  Babe  Davis  returned  from  the  new-ground 
that  day  at  noon,  and  Bud  came  back,  black-browed 
and  ugly  of  mood,  from  an  enforced  working  of  the 
county  road,  Mary  Elizabeth  had  defeated  the  tempt 
er,  self,  and  was  ready  to  go  all  the  way  to  the  duty 
she  saw  before  her. 

But  there  was  no  thrill  of  triumph  in  the  victory, 
no  promise  of  joy  in  the  way  that  she  took.  It  had 
been  forced  upon  her  to  sacrifice  either  the  interests 
of  her  people  or  the  interests  of  the  man  she  loved. 
But  he  was  wrong — the  man  she  loved  was  wrong. 
And  so  it  was  that  when  the  Davises,  mother  and 
sons  and  elfish  grandchild,  were  gathered  together  for 
the  noonday  meal,  a  very  white,  a  very  wretched- 
looking  girl  came  in  to  them  with  the  announcement 
that  she  had  bad  news  for  them. 

Mary  Elizabeth  did  not  sit  down,  but  stood  with 
her  back  to  the  chimney,  facing  the  group.  The 
others  were  seated  around.  Aunt  Millie,  who  was 
waiting  for  the  hoe-cakes  to  brown  before  serving 
dinner,  stared  at  the  girl  with  sinister  speculation  in 
her  mean  old  eyes,  while  Bud  glowered  that  so  much 
attention  should  be  accorded  her,  and  "Surster" 
sucked  her  thumb  in  round-eyed  wonder. 

But  in  the  erstwhile  stupidly  passive  face  of  Babe, 
varying  emotions  were  battling  against  each  other. 

223 


224        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Now  red,  now  ashen,  and  gulping  hard  at  an  excite 
ment  that  would  not  be  swallowed,  he  looked  from 
the  girl  to  the  others,  and  back  to  the  girl  again. 

"I  want  to  tell  you  all  something  that  I've  found 
out,"  began  Mary  Elizabeth,  and  the  red  went  out 
of  Babe's  watching  face.  "This  man,  John  Marshall, 
has  a  scheme  on  foot  to  get  possession  of  all  the  land 
in  this  valley  and  then  dam  up  the  creek  at  the  gap 
and  cover  your  farms  with  a  big  lake.  He's  the  one 
who  has  been  doing  all  this  buying  for  years,  and  he 
now  has  the  titles  to  nearly  all  the  lands  here." 

Babe  Davis's  face  became  the  picture  of  open- 
mouthed,  stupid  bewilderment,  and  the  steel  of  the 
old  woman's  glance  struck  fire,  but  distinct  relief  was 
brought  to  both  when  Bud  spoke  to  the  situation. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,"  he  said,  "ain't  you  got  sense 
enough  to  know  that  the  law  ain't  a-goin'  to  let  him 
destroy  my  property,  an'  that  I  ain't,  neither?  He 
might  could  buy  up  ever'  foot  o'  land  but  this  here, 
an'  still  not  be  able  to  put  a  scheme  like  that  th'ough. 
Why,  he'd  have  to  own  all  the  land  for  that,  an'  he 
ain't  likely  to  git  this  tell  I'm  dead  an'  rotten." 

"Yes,"  the  girl  urged,  the  first  tension  of  her  mood 
giving  way  before  a  rising  flame  of  indignant  loyalty 
toward  her  own.  "Yes,  but  he  has  found  out  that 
nearly  all  of  you  have  never  got  good  titles  to  your 
lands." 

Bud  Davis  sat  up  with  the  growl  of  a  wild  beast. 

"An'  how  in  the  hell  do  you  an'  him  make  that?" 

"Why,  why,"  said  the  girl,  startled  by  his  violence, 
"these  were  all  government  lands  at  first,  and  people 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         225 

have  to  get  out  patent  papers  to  government  lands 
before  they  can  hold  them." 

Every  eye  was  upon  her  now.  The  listeners 
leaned  forward  as  if  by  a  common  impulse.  Not  a 
sound  was  to  be  heard  except  the  voice  of  the  girl. 
"These  papers  were  never  got  out  by  our  ancestors. 
They  merely  took  possession  of  the  lands  here — so 
this  man  says  that  we  have  ho  right  to  them,  that 
they  are  still  government  property.  And  he  is  going 
to  buy  them  or  has  already  bought  them  from  the 
United  States  government." 

Then  Mary  Elizabeth  unfolded  at  length  the  hate 
ful  story,  dwelling  on  the  facts  that  she  thought 
would  be  difficult  for  their  understanding. 

The  hoe-cakes  were  burning  on  the  hearth,  but  the 
old  woman's  eyes  were  riveted  on  the  narrator's  face. 
During  the  whole  recital  the  two  men  kept  their  eyes 
on  her,  breathless,  unmoving;  but  when  she  ceased 
speaking,  Bud  got  up  from  his  chair  and  kicked  it 
from  him.  Babe  rose,  too,  brought  to  his  feet  by  the 
look  with  which  his  brother  was  now  regarding  the 
girl. 

"How  come  you  know  all  this? "  the  black-browed, 
elder  man  demanded. 

Babe  promptly  crossed  over  and  took  his  stand 
between  the  infuriated  questioner  and  the  girl. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  you  don't  have  to  answer  that 
ef  you  don't  want  to,"  he  said  to  her,  and  then  he 
turned  and  looked  straight  into  the  face  of  his  brother. 

The  old  mother  gave  a  little  cry  of  fear,  but  Mary 
Elizabeth  was  already  saying  steadily: 


226        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"But  I  want  to  answer  it,  Babe,"  and  then  to  the 
other:  "I  found  out  the  main  facts  from  a  letter  of 
Mr.  Marshall's  and  he  told  me  the  rest." 

"How  long  have  you  knowed  hit?"  Bud  asked, 
with  his  eyes  narrowing  to  a  black  line  of  hate. 

"Oh,  for  several  weeks,"  the  girl  answered,  with 
some  consternation,  "but  I  was  in  honor  bound  not 
to  tell."  She  waited  a  moment  for  him  to  question 
further,  and  then  asked:  "Is  there  anything  else  you 
want  to  know?" 

"No,  that's  a  plenty"  the  questioner  answered. 

Babe  started,  and  shot  a  swift,  apprehensive 
glance  into  the  eyes  of  the  girl.  But  she  evidently 
had  not  caught  the  covert  meaning  in  the  reply,  so 
he  turned  to  his  brother  again,  this  time  to  give  him 
a  long,  level  look — a  look  so  piercing  and  so  significant 
that  the  other  man's  black  gaze  gradually  sank  before 
it.  And  then  Babe  did  the  unheard-of  thing  in  his 
history,  of  giving  an  order  in  that  house.  Turning 
upon  the  old  woman  who  sat  shivering  before  what 
she  saw,  he  said,  peremptorily: 

"Git  up  an'  put  that  dinner  on  the  table!"  The 
order  proved  an  escape-valve  for  the  tenseness  of 
the  situation.  In  a  few  minutes  more  their  rela 
tions  had  seemingly  returned  to  the  normal.  Aunt 
Millie  had  set  about  rescuing  the  hoe-cakes  from  the 
burning,  after  having  slapped  Sister  by  way  of  re 
lieving  her  feelings,  and  Mary  Elizabeth  was  taking 
up  the  turnip  greens  from  a  pot  that  stood  on  the 
open  hearth.  Bud  had  gone  out  on  the  back  porch 
to  wash  his  hands. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         227 

Babe  was  left  looking  into  the  fire — looking  and 
looking  and  looking  for  something  that  he  did  not 
find. 

When  they  were  gathered  together  again  around 
the  table,  Mary  Elizabeth  related  fully  the  details 
of  what  she  had  learned,  including  an  account  of 
Marshall's  seizure  of  the  haunted  house.  Then  she 
outlined  to  them  her  plan  for  saving  the  situation, 
which  was  that  they  make  common  cause  against 
Marshall  and  fight  him  to  the  end  of  the  law.  And 
she  told  them  how  her  guardian,  under  what  she 
thought  were  similar  circumstances,  had  saved  the 
land  in  a  contest  for  the  squatter  settlers. 

She  was  making  the  effort  of  her  life  to  placate  the 
saturnine  elder  brother,  for  she  felt  the  force  of  John 
Marshall's  advice  on  the  subject,  though  she  had  no 
way  of  guessing  from  what  it  sprang.  But  her  every 
advance,  her  every  reference  to  her  community  of 
interest  with  them,  was  repulsed  by  Bud  Davis  with 
some  manifestation  of  implacable  hatred;  and  when 
she  assured  him  that  she  was  going  to  throw  her 
whole  heart  into  helping  defeat  Marshall's  scheme, 
he  growled  out  something  about  their  being  able  to 
settle  the  matter  without  her  meddling,  and  got  up 
noisily  from  the  table. 

Mary  Elizabeth,  hurt  and  bewildered,  left  the 
room  to  shiver  in  the  pale  sunshine  on  the  front  steps, 
and  Babe  made  as  though  he  would  follow  her,  but 
before  he  was  well  on  his  feet  Bud  was  saying  to  their 
mother: 

"She's  turned  ag'in  him  'cause  he's  throwed  her 


228        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

off.  You  see  she's  been  in  with  him.  He  told  her  all 
about  hit,  hisself,  an'  she  kep'  hit  all  tell  he  give  her 
the  go-by,  an'  then  she  turned  in  to  ruin  him. 
Purty  tale  'bout  that  place  o'  Silas's.  She  handed 
hit  over  to  him,  that's  what!" 

Babe  stopped  long  enough  to  say,  quietly — too 
quietly  for  the  girl  on  the  front  steps  to  hear: 

"She  ain't  to  be  told  that,  understand?"  When 
he  turned  his  blue-white  face  from  them  and  went 
out,  closing  the  door  behind  him,  the  mother  and  the 
son  inside  looked  at  each  other. 

Outside,  Babe  was  taking  a  seat  on  the  step  be 
side  the  bewildered  girl,  and  was  saying  in  a  shaking 
voice: 

"You  made  a  mistake,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  you  made  a 
mistake!" 

"Oh,  how,  Babe?" 

"You  oughter  told  me  or  Uncle  Beck,  or  somebody 
like  that,  fust." 

"But  you  surely  want  this  man  stopped,  don't 
you?" 

"By  God,  yes!"  he  exclaimed  with  a  flash.  "But 
Uncle  Beck  an'  me  an'  some  o'  the  yuthers  could 
a-got  the  thing  in  hand  before — before — well,  no 
matter  now."  And  he  rose  to  go  to  his  work  in 
the  new-ground.  Mary  Elizabeth  accompanied  him 
part  of  the  way  that  she  might  talk  with  him  more 
fully. 

Almost  the  first  sentence  that  passed  his  lips  when 
they  were  far  enough  away  from  the  cabin  to  make 
conversation  safe,  was  to  question  why  it  was  that 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         229 

she  had  not  been  free  to  tell  them  of  Marshall's 
scheme  sooner. 

Then  Mary  Elizabeth  told  him  the  part  of  the 
story  that  she  had  kept  back  from  the  others,  of  how 
she  had  come  to  read  the  letter,  of  how  Marshall  had 
kept  her  silent  through  her  sense  of  honor,  and  of 
how,  to-day,  barely  two  hours  ago,  he  had  come  to 
her  and  given  her  permission  to  tell — to  tell  not  only 
what  she  had  read  in  the  letter,  but  all  that  he  had 
confided  to  her  as  well.  And  she  told  him  also  how 
John  Marshall  had  urged  her  to  make  friends  with 
Bud  and  with  Trav  Williams  and  Mr.  Sykes. 

They  were  some  distance  from  the  cabin,  out  be 
yond  a  sheltering  thicket,  when  the  girl  reached  this 
part  of  the  story.  Suddenly  she  faced  him  and  put 
one  hand  on  the  lapel  of  his  coat  to  stop  him. 

"Babe,"  she  exclaimed,  "what  I  can't  even  make 
a  guess  at  is  why  Mr.  Marshall  came  to  me  with  that 
permission." 

All  at  once  the  groping,  mystified  look  that  made 
its  home  in  the  great  ox-like  eyes  of  the  man,  gave 
way  to  one  of  astounded  speculation. 

"By  gum!"  was  all  that  escaped  him. 

"What,  Babe,  what?" 

"Oh,  nothin',  nothin'!" 

"But  it  is  something,  Babe,  what  is  it?" 

"Nothin',  nothin',"  he  put  her  off  with.  "Hit's 
jes  all  so  tur'ble  mixed." 

Hereupon,  Babe  peremptorily  sent  her  back  to  the 
house  with  orders  not  to  "pester"  his  mother  and 
Bud,  but  to  go  to  her  own  room  and  stay  there.  Then 


230        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

he  took  his  way  straight  out  the  new-ground  road, 
but  looked  back,  now  and  again,  to  note  her  progress 
homeward. 

When  the  girl  was  well  out  of  sight,  however,  the 
man  turned  sharply  to  the  left  and  went  swinging 
through  the  long,  dry  grass  and  low  underbrush  of  an 
adjacent  field  toward  an  objective  that  was  most  cer 
tainly  not  the  new-ground  he  was  clearing.  Half  an 
hour  later  he  presented  himself  at  the  door  of  the 
haunted  house  and  knocked  for  admittance. 

The  door  was  opened  promptly  by  John  Marshall. 
Something  hung  in  his  right  hand  at  his  side.  The 
rustic  saw  it.  He  showed  two  empty  hands  to  Mar 
shall,  and  the  latter  turned  and  tossed  the  shining 
something  over  on  the  bed. 

"Come  in,"  he  said,  stepping  aside — and  then — 
"Sit  down." 

The  other  obeyed  mechanically,  and  Marshall 
took  a  chair  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  table  which 
had  been  drawn  up  near  the  fire.  That  the  girl  had 
told  her  story  was  written  all  too  grimly  on  Babe 
Davis's  face. 

The  two  men  sat  in  a  strange  silence  for  some 
minutes,  then  Marshall  said,  with  evident  effort: 
"Davis,  I  have  never  intended  to  do  you  a  hard 
ship.  It  has  always  been  my  plan  to  give  you 
something " 

"Stranger,"  and  a  quiet,  steady  tap  of  a  long,  bony 
ringer  on  the  table  between  had  something  ominous 
in  its  nervous  repression,  "stranger,  the  man  ain't 
livin'  what  could  give  me  a  dollar,  or  take  a  foot  of 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         231 

land  away  from  me.  An'  that's  all  I've  got  to  say 
about  that  part  of  hit  now.  We'll  settle  that  between 
us  later,  an'  settle  hit  for  good  an'  all.  I — I — come 
for  sump'n  else." 

"What?"     Marshall  was  regarding  him  intently. 

The  other  man  turned  squarely  facing  him,  he  laid 
a  tense  hold  on  each  side  of  the  pine  table,  he  all  but 
rose  from  his  chair  as  he  asked  with  repressed  ex 
citement: 

" Did  you  let  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  tell  on  you  so  she 
might  could  make  peace  with  our  folks — make  the 
folks  b'lieve  in  her — so  they  would  stop  that  damn 
talk?" 

"Yes." 

"Did  you  tell  me  to  run  you  down  to  the  people 
an'  paint  you  black  so  they  would  think  the  more  of 
her — did  you  do  that  a-purpose — for  her?" 

"Yes." 

"An'  did  you  know  what  hit  all  was  bound  to  lead 
to  for  you?" 

They  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  and  then  both 
glanced  at  the  weapon  Marshall  had  thrown  on  the 
bed. 

"I  am  not  a  fool,"  said  the  man  questioned. 

Babe  Davis  drew  a  long,  deep  breath.  "  Stranger," 
he  said,  in  slow  incisive  tones,  "stranger,  hit  do 
look  like  hit  takes  more'n  money  an'  book  learnin' 
to  take  the  man  out'n  a  man!" 

"We  are  all  of  us  sad  mixtures  at  best,"  was  the 
stranger's  reply.  There  was  another  silence,  and  then 
Marshall  asked: 


232        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"How  did  the  others  take  it?  Did  your  brother 
hear  her  when  she  told  it?" 

Babe  Davis  hesitated  a  moment,  and  then  re 
peated  what  Bud  had  said  to  their  mother  as  he  him 
self  had  left  the  room. 

Marshall's  face  blanched  under  the  bronze  of  its 
weather  stains  at  the  fiendish  and  unexpected  misin 
terpretation  of  the  girl's  act.  "Good  Lord,  Davis, 
what  are  we  going  to  do  with  her?"  he  burst  out. 

"I'll  take  keer  o'  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,"  the  other  an 
swered;  "you've  got  to  git  out  o'  this." 

"What  do  you  mean?" 

"You  got  to  leave  here,  an'  that  quick.  I — I — 
can't  let  you  git  in  trouble  after  what  you  done  for 
Ma'y  'Lizbeth." 

"I'm  not  going  when  she  is  in  danger  of  persecu 
tion." 

The  native  looked  up  with  a  start  at  the  quiet 
finality  of  the  voice.  "But  s'pose  sump'n  should 
happen  to  you,"  he  protested. 

"  See  here,  Davis,  I'm  not  exactly  hankering  after 
getting  shot,  but  I  haven't  got  the  slightest  notion  of 
letting  any  two  or  three  men  I  ever  saw  make  me 
turn  tail  and  run  when  it's  my  business  to  stand  my 
ground.  It's  my  business  now  to  take  care  of  that 
child." 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth  is  ourn,  stranger;  you  ain't  re 
sponsible ' 

"She's  mine  to  protect,"  the  other  interrupted 
grimly,  "and  by  the  white  soul  of  her,  I'm  going  to 
do  it!"  He  had  risen  and  was  now  looking  down  on 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         233 

Babe  with  his  arms  folded  and  his  strong  jaw  set. 
"And  don't  you  be  uneasy  about  me,  Davis.  I  am 
quite  as  capable  of  making  things  happen  as  even 
Trav  Williams,  when  the  devil  in  me  gets  stirred 
up." 

The  other  rose  too.  He  put  on  his  old  wool  hat 
and  pulled  it  down  carefully  all  around  his  head  and 
face.  He  buttoned  up  his  threadbare  coat  and 
moved  toward  the  door,  but  there  he  stopped,  hesi 
tating. 

"Stranger,"  he  said  slowly,  "hit  ain't  no  ques 
tion  of  'two  or  three'  others.  Thar  ain't  a  man  in 
this  valley  what  wouldn't  let  daylight  th'ough  you 
for  takin'  a  chaw  o'  terbacco  'way  f 'm  him  when  he 
didn't  want  you  to  have  it." 

"But  if  I  had  paid  for  the  tobacco,  Davis,  I'd  be 
apt  to  take  it  whether  he  wanted  me  to  or  not." 

The  hillite  gave  him  one  of  his  black,  ugly  looks, 
but  by  the  time  he  had  the  door  open,  his  mood  was 
tempered  again. 

"Mister,"  he  said,  "hit's  proned  into  me  that 
you'd  better  let  me  tell  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  the  whole 
truth — tell  her  what  you  done  for  her.  Mebbe  hit 
would  make  her  less  servigrous  to'ards  you,  an'  that 
would  mebbe  make  things  more  easier  on  you." 

John  Marshall  turned  and  looked  in  the  fire.  His 
big  chest  swelled  with  a  sudden  spasm.  A  fierce 
hope  had  sprung  to  his  eyes. 

When  he  turned  again  to  his  tempter,  however, 
the  light  of  something  unexplained  had  transfigured 
his  burning  glance. 


234        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"No,  Davis,  no,"  he  said  finally.  "She's  a  frail 
little  thing,  and  she  would  not  be  able  to  stand  it — 
at  least,  not  without  help.  You  see,"  and  his  eyes 
softened  infinitely,  "there  is  not  a  woman  in  all  her 
world  here  to  take  her  in  her  arms  and  comfort  her. 
There's  nobody  who  cares  for  her  except  us  two  big- 
footed,  blundering  men,  and  we  wouldn't  answer  to 
help  a  girl  bear  up  under  a  thing  like  that." 

Babe  Davis  stood  for  some  moments  with  his  ar 
rested  hand  on  the  latch,  then  the  door  closed  on  him 
without  another  word  between  him  and  the  stranger. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHEN  Babe  Davis  closed  the  door  of  the  haunted 
house  between  himself  and  the  inexplicable  stranger, 
instinct,  rather  than  reason,  sent  him,  stumbling, 
flying,  panting,  toward  the  cross-roads  store.  He 
did  not  take  time  to  go  back  home  for  his  usual 
Saturday  companion,  the  flea-bit  mule,  but  he 
couldn't  have  told  why.  He  avoided  the  highroads 
of  country  travel  and  took  the  way  that  the  crow 
flies  with  much  the  same  wild  instinct.  He  did  not 
plan,  he  did  not  reason,  he  did  not  deliberate.  He 
was  going  straight  to  Beck  Logan,  but  only  his  sub 
conscious  self  and  his  God  knew  why. 

And  he  might  himself  have  been  a  "ha'nt "  that 
walked  those  hills  when  at  length,  white-faced  with 
something  more  than  fatigue,  he  broke  out  of  the 
scrub-oak  thicket  near  the  back  of  the  store,  and 
stood  stock-still  for  some  minutes  to  get  himself  in 
hand.  He  was  going  to  have  to  face  the  congregated 
men  of  the  countryside,  for  this  was  Saturday  after 
noon;  and  he  stopped  to  think  now,  for  the  first  time. 

The  bluff  that  he  put  up  in  looking  as  if  nothing 
had  happened  failed  miserably,  however,  for  even  he 
could  see  that  something  in  the  look  of  him  created 
a  sensation  when  at  length  he  entered  the  store. 
But  the  sensation  was  a  suppressed  one,  for  there 

235 


236        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

was  that  in  the  look  of  Babe  Davis  that  silenced  gibe 
and  challenge,  and  sent  the  others  in  little  segregated 
groups,  to  wonder  to  each  other  in  subdued  tones. 

"Sump'n's  happened  over  to  the  Davises',''  Ri 
Slaton  said  in  an  aside  to  Trav  Williams,  and  Trav 
answered,  uneasily: 

"I  wonder  whar  Bud's  at." 

That  something  had  happened  "over  to  the  Da- 
vises'"  was  the  conclusion  to  which  the  others 
jumped,  too.  Indeed,  it  was  what  most  of  them  had 
been  expecting,  for  Bud's  hatred  toward  the  school 
teacher,  and  Babe's  silent  worship  of  her,  had  become 
themes  of  current  comment  among  them,  while  every 
man  there  had  heard  the  gossip  about  the  girl  and 
the  stranger.  So  when  Babe  deliberately  drew  Beck 
Logan  apart  from  them  to  the  seclusion  of  the 
boarded-off  post-office  corner  and  closed  the  dividing 
door,  there  was  nothing  short  of  consternation 
among  them. 

It  was  out  of  the  question,  now,  for  any  of  them  to 
leave;  being  neighbors  to  the  Davises,  they  must 
stay  and  see  this  thing  out.  Even  the  two  loungers 
from  over  the  ridge — foreigners,  so  to  speak — put 
down  the  saddle-bags  which  they  were  in  the  act 
of  gathering  up  when  the  ghastly  looking  Babe  came 
into  the  company,  and  decided  to  rest  a  spell  before 
taking  their  departure. 

It  was  but  a  poor  attempt  they  all  made  at  gen 
eral  conversation  during  that  seemingly  interminable 
time  in  which  the  partition  door  of  the  post-office 
corner  remained  shut  against  their  excited  curiosity. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         237 

But  all  things  come  to  those  who  wait  long  enough, 
and  just  as  the  foreigners,  despairing,  were  about  to 
give  up  resting  and  take  their  homeward  way  over 
the  distant  ridge  of  hills,  the  long-watched  partition 
door  opened. 

Uncle  Beck  issued  first,  and  there  was  a  preternat- 
urally  calm,  reassuring  look  on  his  shrewd  old  face; 
but  the  countenance  of  Babe  Davis,  who  followed  in 
his  wake  and  stood  silent  beside  him,  gave  the  lie  to 
his  cheerful  effrontery. 

"Boys,"  said  Uncle  Beck  in  a  businesslike  tone — 
and  they  closed  around  him  in  expectant  quiet — 
"boys,  thar's  a  little  trouble  a-brewin',  an'  we've 
got  to  look  into  hit  together.  Now  Babe,  here,  he's 
oneasy;  but  I  says  to  him,  says  I,  'Why,  Babe,  you 
talk  like  the  men  in  this  here  neighborhood  was  on- 
reasonin'  childern,  when  they've  got  a  reputation  all 
over  the  country  for  bein'  fair-minded,  thinkin', 
high-toned  men.  Why,'  says  I  to  Babe, '  didn't  them 
candidates  that  come  th'ough  here  last  summer  from 
way  down  'bout  Mobile,  say  we  was  regyarded  ever'- 
whar  as  bein'  the  most  level-headed  men  in  the 
State?  Wa-al,'  says  I  to  Babe,  'do  you  s'pose  for  a 
minute  that  men  like  that  won't  act  up  to  the  repu 
tation  they've  done  made  for  theirselves?  No,'  says 
I,  '  I'm  goin'  to  put  this  matter  right  into  their  hands; 
I'm  a-goin'  to  tell  'em  the  whole  truth,  an'  let  'em 
act  together."1 

The  assembled  company  stood  up  noticeably  taller, 
and  there  was  a  general  modest  clearing  of  throats; 
but  Babe  Davis's  mouth  had  dropped  open,  and  he 


238        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

was  regarding  the  storekeeper  with  an  expression  of 
utter  astonishment,  as  the  old  man  continued: 

"'An'  more'n  that/  says  I  to  Babe,  'ef  they  even 
choose  to  send  me  to  town  to  a  lawyer  to  find  out 
exactly  how  this  here  muddle  stands,  I'll  go  without 
a  protest;  b'cause,'  says  I,  'I  know  these  men,  an'  I 
know  they  air  a-goin'  to  expect  me  to  act  with  'em 
in  what  they  decide,  in  their  own  good  judgment,  to 
do.'" 

Babe  Davis  drew  his  coat-sleeve  across  his  eyes  as 
if  to  clear  his  vision,  and  stared  again  at  the  store 
keeper. 

"What's  the  trouble,  Beck?  Le's  have  it,"  came 
from  one  of  the  self-conscious,  but  impatient,  listen 
ers.  There  was  an  uneasy  but  quiet  shifting  hi  the 
crowd.  They  closed  in  a  little  more.  They  bent 
forward  slightly  to  hear  Beck  Logan's  answer. 

"Why,"  replied  the  old  man  in  a  tone  of  frank 
confidence,  "Ma'y  'Lizbeth  Dale  has  been  playin'  a 
sort  o'  detective  game  all  these  months,  an'  has  got 
onto  sump'n  that  seems  to  threaten  our  interests  here. 
She  suspected  this  here  man,  Marshall,  of  under- 
handedness  from  the  very  jump,  an'  she  made  up 
her  mind  to  watch  him.  So  she  pretended  to  be 
powerful  friendly-like  an'  sociable  with  him,  jes  to 
git  to  keep  her  eye  on  him — "  The  listeners  looked 
at  each  other  with  dawning  wonder  in  their  eyes. 
Babe  Davis  sat  down  as  suddenly  as  if  his  legs  had 
given  way  under  him. 

"Yes,"  said  the  old  man,  nodding  his  head  and 
smiling  as  if  delighted  at  the  idea,  "that  slip  of  a 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         239 

gal!  Would  you  a-thought  she  had  it  in  her?  But 
that's  the  way  with  womenfolks — you  never  can 
calc'late  on  what  they  air  goin'  to  do  next!" 

"What  is  that  man  Marshall  up  to?"  one  of  them 
interrupted  with,  and  the  growl  with  which  the  ques 
tioning  demand  was  accompanied  ran  through  the 
assemblage  like  a  ground-swell.  Men  began  to  whis 
per,  each  to  each.  Trav  Williams,  black-browed, 
threatening,  and  uncommunicative,  sat  apart. — The 
old  man  saw  that  he  must  keep  his  reins  well  in  hand. 

"Wa-al,"  said  he  promptly,  "that's  what  us  men 
have  got  to  look  into.  You  see,  we  can't  afford  to 
take  a  woman's  judgment  'bout  things — women  not 
bein'  smart  in  their  minds  like  men.  I'm  free  to  say 
that  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  Dale  has  got  ra-al  good  wit  for  a 
gal,  but  she  has  got  things  mixed,  somehow,  an' 
we've  got  to  take  the  clue  that  she  has  skeered  up, 
ontangle  the  mess  she's  made  of  hit,  an'  see  whar  hit 
leads." 

"Yes,  Beck,  but  what  about  Marshall?"  another 
demanded,  and  the  question  was  instantly  echoed  in 
several  directions. 

"Wa-al,"  said  the  old  man  calmly  and  almost 
cheerfully,  for  he  knew  the  men  he  was  handling, 
"wa-al,  neighbors,  John  Marshall  is  mixed  up  with 
a  sale  of  gover'ment  lands,  hereabouts,  an'  I  don't 
like  the  looks  of  the  story;  though,  of  course,  onless 
you  say  I've  got  to  go  to  town  to  find  out  the  truth, 
I'll  probably  never  know  jes  how  hit  is.  Now  he, 
Marshall  hisself,  I  mean,  told  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  a  tale 
about  his  doin's  here  that  anybody  but  a  woman 


240        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

would  a-seen  was  a  lie  on  the  face  of  hit — the  very 
idea!  As  if  a  man  would  fix  up  a  plan  that  depended 
on  secrecy  for  its  success  an'  then  go  an'  tell  hit  to  a 
woman,  an'  tell  her  to  publish  hit  from  the  housetops, 
besides!" 

And  then,  without  a  glance  toward  Babe  Davis, 
who  had  been  reduced  to  a  state  of  hopeless  bewilder 
ment,  and  with  his  voice  every  now  and  then  break 
ing  with  laughter  at  the  absurdity  of  the  story,  Uncle 
Beck  related  to  them  what  John  Marshall  had  told 
to  Mary  Elizabeth  about  his  great  reservoir  scheme. 

That  laugh  of  the  old  storekeeper's  saved  John 
Marshall's  neck  that  day. 

"Now,  ain't  hit  like  a  woman  to  b'lieve  a  cock  an' 
bull  story  like  that!"  he  would  cackle.  "As  ef  any 
body  out'n  a  lunatic  asylum  would  a-told  a  tale  like 
that  an'  give  her  permission  to  tell  us!  By  gad, 
boys" — the  situation  was  a  tense  one  and  no  man 
knew  it  better  than  the  storekeeper,  who  saw  every 
lightning  glance  that  played  about  in  that  lowering 
company  and  knew  just  what  he  had  to  laugh  down — 
"by  gad,  boys,  I'm  afeard  I'd  a-mistrusted  Ma'y 
'Lizbeth,  myself,  ef  John  Marshall  had  a-told  her 
that  story  an'  ast  her  not  to  tdl.  Much  as  I  like  the 
gal,  an'  y'all  know  how  I've  stood  up  to  her — I'm 
mightily  afeard  I'd  a-thought  she  had  at  one  time 
been  in  cahoots  with  Marshall" — the  old  man  was 
playing  his  highest  trump — "ef  she'd  a-said  he  told 
her  not  to  give  his  scheme  away  to  us.  But  John  Mar 
shall  told  Babe  hisself — didn't  he,  Babe? — that  he 
had  done  been  up  to  Mis'  Davis's  an'  give  Ma'y 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         241 

'Lizbeth  permission  to  tell  ever'body  what  he  told 
her  hisself  'bout  his  plans!" 

Then  Uncle  Beck  proceeded  to  narrate  to  them  a 
new  and  unique  story  of  Mary  Elizabeth's  struggles 
to  outwit  the  mysterious  stranger.  And  in  that  tell 
ing  he  put  the  girl  before  them  in  a  peculiarly  tender 
light.  She  belonged  to  them!  In  spite  of  her  years 
of  absence  from  them,  in  spite  of  the  strange  and 
estranging  "raising"  that  had  been  hers,  Mary  Eliz 
abeth  had  sided  with  her  own  when  she  might  have 
had  money — "big  money" — and  more  fine  things 
than  that  store  would  have  held,  if  she  had  turned 
traitor  to  her  own  people — if  she  had  married  the 
wicked  stranger  as  he  had  time  and  again  begged 
her  on  his  bended  knees  to  do!  And  Mary  Eliza 
beth  had  suffered,  too,  for  old  Silas's  place  had  been 
taken  from  her. 

But  whenever  the  old  man  spoke  of  the  stranger, 
his  manner  was  strained.  It  was  not  that  he  justified 
in  the  slightest  degree  John  Marshall's  mysterious 
wrong-doing,  for  he  did  not.  But  he  spoke  absolutely 
without  passion  against  this  man  about  whom  the 
most  inflaming  stories  were  being  circulated.  And 
only  Babe  Davis  knew  why,  for  Babe  Davis  had  told 
him,  confidentially,  who  had  released  this  story  of 
John  Marshall's  sin  against  them,  for  the  telling,  and 
why. 

"Beck  Login,  s'pose  this  here  tale  about  the 
reservoy  should  happen  to  be  true  ?  "  Trav  Williams 
spoke  for  the  first  time,  and  there  was  instant  dead 
silence  to  hear  the  reply. 


242         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"Wa-al,  s'pose  hit  should  be  true,"  cheerfully 
agreed  the  old  man,  "a  smart  man  like  you,  Trav, 
don't  need  me  to  tell  you  that  in  such  a  case  the  only 
thing  necessary  to  defeat  Marshall's  whole  scheme 
would  be  to  establish  titles  to  one  single  piece  of 
property  in  the  valley."  Some  of  the  men  had  never 
heard  of  "titles"  before,  and  the  old  man  had  to 
explain. 

"Now,"  continued  he,  "don't  ast  me  to  s'pose 
that  thar  ain't  nair  one  of  you  what's  got  a  right  to 
his  own  land,  'cause  my  'magination  ain't  equal  to  hit. 
No,  neighbors,  I  kin  see  th'ough  a  mill-stone  as  well 
as  the  man  that  made  the  hole  in  it;  but  ef  hit'll  make 
Trav,  here,  any  happier,  I'll  git  busy  an'  s'pose  that 
John  Marshall  is  fool  enough  to  take  us  all  into  his 
confidence  in  his  schemes  ag'inst  us.  But  even 
s'posin'  that,  neighbors,  I'm  here  to  tell  you  that  the 
quicker  you  do  as  was  suggested  an'  send  somebody  to 
inquire  into  your  titles,  the  better  hit  will  be  for  you." 

In  the  pandemonium  of  questions  and  invectives 
which  followed,  the  old  man  kept  his  characteristic, 
slow  smile  in  easy  call,  and  answered  everybody  with 
disarming  frankness.  He  had  drawn  himself  up  to  a 
seat  on  the  high  counter  now,  and  the  relaxed  and 
careless  attitude  that  he  assumed  was  in  its  very  self 
soothing  and  reassuring  to  them.  It  was  not  the 
first  time  that  he  had  controlled  them  by  his  laughing 
philosophy,  and  his  past  experience  with  them  stood 
him  in  good  stead  now. 

"Yes,"  he  would  agree  to  one,  "John  Marshall's 
up  to  sump'n,  an'  we've  got  to  find  out  what!" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         243 

"No,"  he  would  declare  to  another,  "men  like 
these  ain't  a-goin'  to  listen  to  none  o'  that!  Men 
that  have  made  a  reputation  for  theirselves  all  over 
the  State  by  their  clear-headedness  ain't  a-goin'  to 
bus'  loose  an'  do  sump'n  reckless  an'  silly  before  they 
make  sure  they  air  injured." 

"Wa-al,"  he  would  concede  to  another,  "sence 
y'  all  insist,  I'll  be  the  one  to  go  an'  look  into  the 
matter." 

Now,  in  point  of  fact,  no  one  as  yet  had  insisted 
on  the  old  man's  undertaking  an  investigation  for 
them.  Indeed,  no  one  had  mentioned  the  idea  but 
himself.  But  the  old  man  knew  the  power  of  sug 
gestion,  through  the  wisdom  of  years,  and  he  kept 
alluding  to  the  idea  which  he  himself  had  originally 
advanced  as  to  a  desire  that  was  native  with  his 
hearers  till  it  finally  took  root  with  them. 

By  the  time  that  the  others  had  talked  off  their 
first  repressed  excitement  and  were  ready  to  listen  to 
the  old  storekeeper  again,  there  was  the  general 
feeling  throughout  the  company  that  somebody  had 
insisted  on  Uncle  Beck's  going  to  town  to  investi 
gate  the  head  and  front  of  John  Marshall's  offending, 
and  that  it  was  a  very  wise  plan,  especially  in  view 
of  the  fact  that  they  didn't  really  know  that  Mar 
shall  had  offended,  and  also  in  consideration  of  the 
State-wide  reputation  which  was  theirs  to  sustain. 
In  a  few  minutes  they  were  discussing  Uncle  Beck's 
visit  to  "town"  as  a  foregone  and  definite  conclu 
sion;  and  when  he  told  them  about  the  "abstract 
office  "  where  one  could  find  out  all  there  was  to  know 


244        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

about  lands,  it  was  finally  decided  among  them  that 
he  must  go  at  once. 

The  old  man's  stroke  of  state  came,  however,  when 
he  explained  that  he  just  naturally  had  to  have  the 
"smartest"  and  "likeliest"  one  of  the  bunch  to  go 
with  him  to  town  and  see  the  thing  through. 

"An'  when  I  say  'smartest'  an'  'likeliest,'"  said 
the  shrewd  old  fellow,  "y'  all  know  mighty  well  who  I 
mean."  And  his  big  hand  descended  on  the  shoulder 
of  Trav  Williams,  who  still  sat  apart,  uncompro 
mising. 

Trav's  black  brows  cleared  in  spite  of  himself,  but 
he  began,  doggedly: 

"I  ain't  got  no  time  to  go " 

"Yes,  you  have,  Trav  Williams,"  it  was  Uncle 
Beck  again;  "  I've  knowed  you  fifty-six  year,  an'  I've 
never  seen  you  yit  when  you  didn't  have  time  to  do 
your  patriotic  duty.  Yes,  boys,  Trav  says  he'll  go, 
an'  go  gladly,  an'  that  he'll  git  to  the  bottom  of  this 
trouble  for  you,  ef  he  has  to  run  my  damned  old  legs 
off." 

Trav  couldn't  help  joining  in  the  laugh  that  fol 
lowed,  and  in  a  few  minutes  it  was  decided  that  the 
two  should  leave  that  very  afternoon  to  catch  the 
first  train. 

After  arrangements  had  been  agreed  upon,  and 
the  general  feeling  established  that  immediate  and 
decisive  action  was  in  progress,  Uncle  Beck  got  their 
concerted  attention  again: 

"Look  a-here,  boys,"  he  said,  "me  an'  Trav  ain't 
a-goin'  to  go  nosin'  round  an'  stirrin'  up  trouble 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         245 

for  ourselves,  mebbe,  onless  we  kin  feel  that  hit's 
goin'  to  be  a  ra-al  benefit  to  y'  all.  We  ain't  a-goin' 
lopin'  off  on  a  errant  like  this  for  no  thin'.  Y'  all  have 
got  to  promise  us  that  you  won't  do  nothin'  reckless 
an'  foolish-like  tell  we  have  sifted  this  thing  to  the 
bottom,  or  we  won't  budge  a  step — will  we,  Trav?" 

"No,"  said  the  man  addressed,  promptly,  "ef  we 
air  to  take  the  matter  in  hand,  hit  must  be  in  our 
hands;  an'  we  don't  want  to  be  made  fools  of  by 
any  interference." 

There  were  hasty  assurances  of  perfect  quiescence 
on  the  part  of  the  others,  for  Trav  had  spoken  with 
finality;  but  Uncle  Beck  didn't  rest  until  he  had 
called  each  man  by  name  and  made  him  promise  not 
to  make  any  move  in  the  premises  until  the  two  en 
voys  should  return  and  point  the  way. 

All  he  asked  of  them  now,  he  explained,  was  for 
them  to  keep  the  peace  among  themselves  till  he 
and  Trav  could  test  the  probability  of  the  stranger's 
threats,  and  could  look  into  the  matter  of  land  titles. 
They  had  promised,  he  reminded  them,  and  he  had 
never  known  a  hill-Billy  to  go  back  on  a  promise. 
With  this  much  clinched,  he  pointed  out  to  them 
that  their  agreement  to  remain  hands  off  for  a  time 
comprehended,  in  the  spirit  of  it,  the  keeping  in  check 
of  the  two  who  had  not  been  there  to  join  in  the 
compact.  Bud  Davis  and  Shan  Thaggin  were  miss 
ing.  With  this  admonition  in  regard  to  them,  the 
old  man  dismissed  the  two  absentees  from  considera 
tion.  He  knew  that  Shan  would  never  hurt  anybody 
unless  by  stumbling  over  him  in  full  flight,  and  he 


246        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

shrewdly  suspected  Bud  Davis's  liver  to  be  whiter 
than  his  brutal  violence  of  manner  would  seem  to 
indicate.  At  any  rate,  Bud  would  not  be  likely  to 
move  till  Trav  Williams  was  free  to  act  with  him. 

So  it  came  about  that  Uncle  Beck  put  the  whole 
valley  under  a  peace  bond,  and  deliberately  removed 
Trav  Williams,  the  most  violent  of  the  number, 
bodily  from  the  scene. 

But  before  Uncle  Beck  left,  however,  he  found  the 
opportunity  to  say  quietly  to  Babe  Davis: 

"I  had  to  put  hit  that  a- way,  Babe.  Ef  I'd  a-told 
'em  all  o'  the  truth,  John  Marshall's  skin  wouldn't 
a-been  whole  tell  sundown.  On  your  life,  now, 
don't  you  give  hit  away  to  'em  that  hit's  ra-ally  true 
'bout  the  fellow's  damned  rascality.  Trav  an'  me 
will  git  a  lawyer  an'  block  his  game — you  needn't 
fear  'bout  that;  but,  like  you,  I  want  him  to  git  off 
with  his  life,  an'  he's  a-goin'  to  do  hit,  ef  I  kin  find 
the  way." 

That  very  afternoon,  after  he  had  forced  the  ar 
mistice,  and  while  he  was  on  his  way  to  join  Trav 
Williams  for  the  long  ride  to  the  nearest  railroad 
station,  the  old  storekeeper  met  John  Marshall,  face 
to  face,  on  a  bridle-path.  « 

The  stranger  would  have  passed  with  a  formal 
"good-evening,"  but  the  native  blocked  his  way. 
The  two  men  looked  at  each  other. 

"Mr.  Marshall,"  said  the  old  man,  quietly,  "hit's 
proned  into  me  that  I  ought  to  warn  you  to  git 
away  from  here.  Ma'y  'Lizbeth  has  done  told  the 
people  'bout  your  plans,  an' — you  can  guess  the  rest, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         247 

They've  promised  to  keep  the  peace  for  a  few  days, 
but  after  that  thar  ain't  no  answerin'  for  'em." 

The  other  man  sat  his  horse  in  uncompromising 
silence  for  a  moment  or  two,  and  then  asked,  with  a 
distinct  note  of  cynicism  in  his  voice: 

"And  to  what  am  I  indebted  for  your  confidence 
and  advice?" 

"To  the  fact  that  you  acted  square  to  Ma'y 
'Lizbeth,"  the  old  man  replied,  simply.  "Babe 
Davis  told  me  all  about  hit,  confidential." 

The  stranger  removed  his  hat:  "I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Logan,  for  your  kindness,"  he 
replied  with  quick  sincerity. 

The  sound  of  a  horse's  feet  came  to  them  from 
beyond  a  turn  in  the  path,  and,  with  only  a  quick 
look  into  each  other's  eyes,  the  two  men  simul 
taneously  gathered  up  rein  and  departed  on  their 
separate  ways. 

The  guardian  spirit  who  watches  over  tempera 
mentally  combative  men  arranged  to  have  the  story 
against  Marshall  made  public  on  a  Saturday  so  that 
Uncle  Beck's  version  would  be  sown  broadcast  before 
another  could  be  submitted,  for  the  guardian  spirit 
of  temperamentally  combative  men  is  a  good  sports 
man  and  likes  to  give  the  quarry  a  chance  for  his 
life. 

It  was  this  spirit  that  sent  Babe  Davis  straight 
from  the  interview  with  Marshall  to  the  country  store, 
to  be  closeted  with  the  old  postmaster  for  a  quarter 
of  an  hour  in  the  little  post-office  cupboard  cor 
ner,  where  the  version  of  the  story  to  be  sown  was 


248        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

hatched  in  the  listener's  scheming  brain.  And  it  was 
this  spirit  who  decreed  that  Uncle  Beck,  the  most 
beloved  and  revered  man  in  the  whole  county,  should 
be  the  one  to  make  public  the  story.  Perhaps  it 
was  this  spirit  guardian,  too,  who  decreed  that  Bud 
Davis  should  take  on  an  extra  load  of  moonshine 
whiskey  right  after  dinner,  and  lie  drunk  and  asleep 
across  the  foot  of  his  bed  while  his  brother  forestalled 
him  in  the  telling  of  that  marvellous  story. 

Late  that  same  day,  after  Uncle  Beck  and  Trav 
were  well  on  their  way  to  the  station,  Bud  Davis 
put  in  an  appearance  at  the  store,  to  find,  to  his  un 
disguised  rage,  that  he  had  been  forestalled  in  re 
porting  the  wonderful  news. 

The  extra  load  of  "moonshine"  that  had  put  him 
heavily  asleep  and  delayed  his  joining  the  usual 
Saturday  afternoon  conclave  at  the  store  had  worked 
almost  irremediable  havoc  with  his  plans.  He  ar 
rived  on  the  scene  to  find  his  prop  and  stay,  Trav 
Williams,  spirited  away  by  Uncle  Beck,  and  the  rest 
of  the  fellows  pledged  to  keep  the  peace  for  a  space — 
and  all  of  them  feeling  grateful  toward  Mary  Eliza 
beth. 

It  so  happened  that  Babe  had  departed  for  home 
shortly  after  Uncle  Beck  himself  had  taken  his  leave, 
so  when  Bud  arrived  at  the  store,  he  had  a  clear 
swing,  as  it  were.  It  did  not  take  him  many  minutes 
to  urge  the  truth  of  the  story  about  John  Marshall's 
plans  to  seize  their  property,  and  to  put  his  own 
version  of  Mary  Elizabeth's  part  in  the  affair  before 
the  assembled  valleyites  in  very  glaring  colors. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         249 

When  he  was  met  with  Uncle  Beck's  argument 
that  Marshall  would  never  have  given  Mary  Eliza 
beth  the  right  to  tell  that  story  if  it  had  been  true, 
Bud  at  once  declared  that  Marshall  must  then  have 
already  succeeded  in  defrauding  them,  and  have  taken 
that  way  of  breaking  the  news  to  them;  and  he  had 
the  satisfaction  of  seeing  that  he  created  a  profound 
sensation.  But,  whereas  if  he  could  have  made  the 
initial  statement  to  them  he  would  probably  have 
carried  all  before  him,  he  could  now  feel  that  it  was 
going  to  be  almost  impossible  to  remove  the  impres 
sion  that  Uncle  Beck  had  made  on  some  of  them,  and 
that  even  with  those  who  were  loud  in  their  support 
of  him  there  were  signs  of  disturbing  mental  reserva 
tions.  So,  on  the  whole,  Bud  left  the  store  that 
evening  feeling  that  the  others  had  not  given  him 
the  support  that  his  cause  merited. 

A  night  or  two  after  that  meeting,  the  stranger 
tenant  of  the  haunted  house  paid  another  call  at  the 
Thaggin  home  under  the  cover  of  darkness,  but  this 
time  grandma  was  not  kept  "heartened  up"  to  see 
him. 

Grandma  was  sick — very  sick — she  would  not  be 
in  the  way  much  longer.  It  was  a  question  of  only  a 
few  days  now  before  Shan  and  Melissa  Thaggin  could 
convey  the  little  homestead  place  to  John  Marshall 
for  the  dazzling  price  to  which  he  had  lately  risen, 
without  going  through  the  formality  of  having 
grandma  sign  it  with  the  sign  of  her  cross. 

Since  the  tempestuous  interview  with  the  stranger 
in  which  grandma  had  inadvertently  been  allowed 


250        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

to  open  her  mouth  once  too  often,  the  old  woman 
had  steadily  refused  to  allow  the  sale  to  be  made; 
but  her  opposition  had  now  ceased  to  disturb  either 
her  son  or  her  daughter-in-law.  They  were  content 
to  wait.  The  flight  of  hours  has  little  or  no  signifi 
cance  to  the  hillite,  for  his  temperament  has  in  it  a 
touch  of  that  sublime  indifference  to  the  passage  of 
time  that  would  seem  to  belong  properly  only  to 
Deity. 

But  the  other  party  to  the  pending  contract  en 
joyed  no  such  static  calm.  Recent  developments 
made  every  moment  count  with  him.  To  secure  the 
Thaggin  farm  had  now  come  to  mean  the  consumma 
tion  of  the  hopes  and  plans  and  ambitions  of  the  best 
ten  years  of  his  manhood.  Every  other  coveted  foot 
of  land  was  now  in  his  grasp.  But  this  one  spot  to 
which  the  resident  held  titles  had  to  be  regularly  con 
veyed.  It  was  the  key  to  the  situation.  Its  pur 
chase  meant  success;  its  loss,  disaster. 

Only  recently  had  Marshall  come  to  realize  how 
much  of  himself  he  had  given  to  the  scheme,  what 
sacrifices  he  had  made  for  it,  what  its  success  or  its 
failure  would  mean  to  his  future.  Looking  back 
now,  he  saw  that  from  twenty-seven  to  thirty-seven 
it  had  filled  his  years.  It  was  not  that  the  scheme 
had  taken  much  of  his  actual  time,  for  it  had  not. 
During  all  those  years  he  had  apparently  been  in  the 
very  thick  of  life,  taking  his  toll  of  ordinary  pleasures 
from  it,  and  adding  his  share  to  its  ordinary  achieve 
ments;  but  that  was  but  the  shadow  of  himself  which 
had  played  out  that  part  on  the  dead  level  of  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        251 

commonplace,  the  real  man  had  been  apart  with  his 
ambitions. 

And  what  he  had  given  to  it  was  practically  his 
all,  for  he  had  sunk  the  best  part  of  what  he  owned 
in  the  furtherance  of  the  project,  and  had,  besides, 
borrowed  heavily  for  his  model-city  scheme  with 
this  as  his  hope  of  ultimate  solvency.  Failure  here 
meant,  practically,  financial  disaster. 

But  it  meant  more  than  financial  disaster.  It 
meant — he  believed  it — his  failure  as  a  man.  To 
begin  with,  his  reputation  hung  in  the  balance. 
This  project  would  stamp  him  either  as  a  genius  of 
finance,  or  the  wildest  of  dreamers;  it  meant  the 
world  on  his  side,  or  the  world  against  him.  But  it 
had  a  grimmer  meaning  still,  for  it  involved  in  its 
consummation  the  demonstration  of  the  man  to 
himself. 

Years  ago  John  Marshall  had  assured  the  man 
within  him  that  he  possessed  the  ability  to  do  big 
things,  to  conquer  obstinate  things;  but  the  man 
within  him  had  demanded  proof.  And  through  all 
these  long  years  he  had  been  struggling  to  demon 
strate  what,  in  the  pride  of  his  youth,  he  had  thought 
ought  to  be  accepted  as  a  self-evident  proposition. 
And  now,  just  as  he  was  about  to  write  Quod  erat 
demonstrandum,  the  Latin  for  "I  told  you  so,"  and 
close  the  book,  came  this  unknown  quantity,  this 
girl,  and  menaced  his  life  problem  with  reduction  to 
absurdity. 

Did  he  have  it  in  him  to  succeed?  He  could  dream 
great  things — yes,  but  any  man  could  dream! 


252         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Fred  Bearing  had  once  said  to  him  that  half  of 
life's  great  successes  depend  on  their  achievers'  will 
ingness  to  disregard  their  cost  to  others.  His  words 
came  back  to  Marshall  now,  frequently.  Well,  in 
this  one  case,  at  least,  Fred's  theory  applied.  As 
long  as  he  had  disregarded  the  cost  to  others,  just  so 
long  had  all  gone  well;  it  was  when  he  refused  to  sac 
rifice  the  girl  to  his  project  that  his  affairs  had  been 
thrown  into  chaos  with  almost  certain  ruin  ahead,  if 
not  tragedy  for  himself. 

But,  after  all,  now  was  his  real  opportunity!  To 
snatch  success  from  the  jaws  of  defeat  were  to  suc 
ceed  indeed!  To  precipitate  chaos,  to  dare  assassi 
nation,  and  then  to  triumph — what  a  chance  for  a 
man  to  prove  the  mettle  of  the  pasture  in  which  he 
was  bred!  His  blood  tingled  at  the  thought  that  all 
the  odds  were  against  him,  and  by  his  own  doing, 
too;  and  that  now,  if  ever,  he  would  silence  all  in 
ward  doubts  as  to  his  ability  to  do  big  things,  and  he 
would  prove  to  Fred  Bearing  that  a  man  may  force 
success  without  the  sacrifice  of  anybody  who  is  fit  to 
survive. 

And  so,  while  giving  Mary  Elizabeth  the  chance 
to  prove  to  her  people  her  loyalty  to  them  against 
him,  in  the  desperate  hope  of  re-establishing  her  with 
them,  he  was  doggedly  pursuing  his  objective  against 
fearful  odds  of  his  own  deliberate  making. 

So  he  went  to  the  Thaggins'  that  night  to  arrange 
for  the  transfer  of  the  property  as  soon  as  grandma 
should  be  effectually  silenced.  And  all  arrangements 
were  satisfactorily  completed.  Explanations  of  their 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         253 

last  wild  meeting  were  made  in  which  Shan  protested 
his  innocence  of  any  intended  harm  to  Mary  Eliza 
beth,  and  his  willingness,  in  fact,  his  impatience,  to 
fight  for  her  at  the  very  first  opportunity  that  offered; 
and  the  stranger  made  graceful  amends  for  his  too 
hasty  judgment  of  him,  taking  good  care,  however, 
to  nail  Shan  to  his  vow  of  friendship  to  the  girl. 

Marshall  left  the  Thaggin  house  that  night  with 
out  having  found  out,  or  without  even  having  sus 
pected,  that  Melissa  Thaggin  was  being  kept  by  her 
husband  in  ignorance  of  his,  Marshall's,  proposed  use 
of  the  property.  Melissa  had  been  detained  close  at 
home  by  her  perfectly  dutiful  attendance  on  the  sick 
woman,  and  recent  heavy  rains  and  consequent  bad 
roads  had  discouraged  visits  from  the  neighbors. 
Only  Shan  came  and  went,  and  Shan  held  his  peace. 
He  had  just  about  enough  intelligence  to  guess  what 
might  happen  if  Melissa  were  to  find  out  that  in  sell 
ing  their  property  they  would  be  selling  their  neigh 
bors  out  of  house  and  home,  as  well;  so  he  determined 
that  she  should  be  kept  in  ignorance  till  her  name 
was  duly  signed  to  the  mysterious  "papers." 

The  neighborhood  was  made  up  of  many  men  of 
many  meannesses,  but  in  all  that  valley  there  was 
only  one  Shan  Thaggin. 

On  the  day  following  Marshall's  second  visit  to  the 
Thaggins,  Mary  Elizabeth  heard  the  first  news  of 
grandma's  serious  illness;  and  as  soon  as  she  got 
back  from  school  that  day,  she  borrowed  Sulphurina, 
and  rode  at  once  to  the  store  to  ask  Uncle  Beck  to 
"trust"  her  for  a  bottle  of  Dr.  Beach's  Consump- 


254        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

tion  Cure.  But  Uncle  Beck  was  gone.  The  stable- 
boy  clerk,  however,  was  perfectly  willing  to  charge 
the  medicine  against  the  teacher's  next  pay-day,  so 
Mary  Elizabeth  took  her  way  to  grandma's  through 
the  gray  darkness  of  a  rainy  winter  evening  in  the 
hope  that  she  was  carrying  the  sufferer  that  which 
would  bring  joy  to  her  fading  eyes. 

But  grandma  slept  through  the  short  time  that 
she  had  to  spend  in  her  visit,  so  Mary  Elizabeth  and 
the  younger  Mrs.  Thaggin,  together  with  Sue,  talked 
the  time  away  in  very  earnest  whispers. 

And  Mary  Elizabeth  was  glad  that  it  was  so,  for 
she  had  something  to  say  to  the  two  which  would 
not  remain  unsaid.  Only  yesterday,  she  had  heard  of 
the  proposed  sacrifice  of  the  childish,  innocent,  con 
fiding  Sue  to  Trav  Williams,  and  the  woman's  soul 
within  her  had  cried  out  against  the  sacrilege. 

So  in  that  interview  she  said  to  Melissa  Thaggin 
what  only  one  true  woman  can  say  to  another  on 
such  a  subject;  and  she  said  it  without  hesitation, 
without  fear.  When  she  had  finished  speaking,  there 
was  very  little  else  to  be  charged  against  the  char 
acter  of  Trav  Williams;  and  mother  and  daughter 
had  been  made  to  view  the  girl's  newly  attained 
womanhood  with  eyes  from  which  the  scales  had  been 
stricken.  Sue  was  crying  on  her  mother's  lap,  and 
the  mother  was  making  her  a  solemn  promise. 

Mary  Elizabeth  went  from  that  interview  without 
having  once  mentioned  John  Marshall  or  his  scheme. 
True,  her  mind  had  been  full  of  him  on  her  ar 
rival,  but  she  shrank  from  mentioning  the  recent 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         255 

sensational  story  about  him  for  the  reason  that  she 
did  not  wish  to  seem  to  be  bidding  for  praise  on  ac 
count  of  the  part  she  had  played  in  it.  Then,  she 
had  been  taken  out  of  herself  by  her  earnest  fear  for 
poor  little  ignorant  Sue;  and  Marshall  was  forgotten 
until  her  attack  on  Trav  Williams  suddenly  brought 
to  mind  his  admonition  to  her  to  make  a  friend  of  the 
man.  Then  her  fatal  honesty  got  in  her  way  again. 
Fearful  lest  she  should  let  this  ulterior  motive  come 
between  her  and  this  new  thing  that  looked  so  much 
like  Duty,  she  said  a  great  deal  more  against  Trav 
Williams  than  her  actual  knowledge  of  him  justified. 

And  Mary  Elizabeth  departed  in  the  growing  dark, 
and  Melissa  Thaggin  was  left  beside  the  sick  woman 
to  think  it  all  over  and  to  be  dumbly  grateful  that 
this  girl  had  suddenly  waked  to  virile  strength  and 
self-consciousness  the  something  in  her  that  had  been 
struggling  to  assert  itself  against  this  outrage.  Me 
lissa  knew  now  that  she  was  unalterably  against  this 
marriage,  and  she  knew  why,  for  Mary  Elizabeth 
had  voiced  for  her,  her  dumb  soul-protest  against  it, 
and  her  awakened  womanhood  had  cried  a  passion 
ate  "Amen."  She  would  forbid  the  marriage,  and 
she  would  stand  out  against  it,  even  as  she  had 
promised  her  child. 

And  now,  in  view  of  the  fact  that  she  was  going  to 
have  to  oppose  herself  to  Trav  Williams — the  hated, 
the  feared — Melissa  found  comfort  in  remembering 
that  she  and  hers  would  soon  move  entirely  out  of  the 
neighborhood,  and  be  far  beyond  the  reach  of  its 
petty  hates.  She  was  glad,  too,  of  the  proposed 


256        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

manner  of  their  going,  as  decided  on  by  Shan  and  the 
stranger,  though  at  first  she  had  protested  against  it. 
They  were  to  keep  their  trade  absolutely  on  the 
quiet  and  move  out  of  the  valley  under  the  cover  of 
darkness  and  secrecy — so  it  had  been  arranged  by 
the  two  men.  And  speculating  now  on  the  wrath  to 
come  of  Trav  Williams,  Melissa  Thaggin  thanked 
her  kindly  stars  that  she  had  been  thus  overruled  in 
the  manner  of  their  leaving  by  her  lord  and  master. 


CHAPTER  XX 

ONE  bleak  morning,  when  the  rains  had  ceased 
through  sheer  exhaustion,  the  news  was  carried  about 
by  a  young  Thaggin  on  horseback  that  grandma  was 
dead,  and  there  would  be  a  "settin'-up"  that  night 
at  the  Thaggin  homestead.  Every  face  in  the  val 
ley  waxed  solemn  at  the  announcement,  and  every 
tongue  grew  glib  with  expressions  of  sympathy;  but 
all  the  same,  a  thrill  of  something  that  was  not  sor 
row  ran  through  the  neighborhood.  From  end  to 
end  it  passed,  and  it  came  to  a  head  in  the  cabin  of 
Dilsey  Sellers  and  the  blind  Lil. 

Of  all  the  social  functions  of  a  backwoods  settle 
ment  a  "settin'-up"  is  the  most  enjoyable.  It  has 
the  quilting  bee  and  the  picnic  beat  so  far  that  there 
is  really  no  comparing  them,  and  it  can  give  even 
the  camp-meeting  cards  and  spades  and  come  out 
ahead.  Everybody  goes  to  a  settin'-up,  menfolks 
and  all,  and  nobody  has  to  provide  any  of  the  victuals 
except  the  bereaved,  who  always  lays  in  a  bountiful 
supply.  The  settin'-up  has  no  religious  responsibili 
ties  like  the  camp-meetin',  and  it  is  an  all-night  per 
formance — then,  there's  the  corpse. 

Yes,  the  neighborhood  was  thrilled;  and  as  for  Dil 
sey — why,  Dilsey  drew  a  long,  injured  sigh  of  relief 
at  the  prospect  of  receiving  justice  at  the  hands  of  her 
neighbors  at  last.  It  had  all  been  very  well  for 

257 


258        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Uncle  Beck  Logan  to  pat  her  on  the  back  and  ad 
monish  her  not  to  let  a  coffin  come  between  her  and 
her  neighbors  as  long  as  she  could  help  it,  but  Dilsey 
had  felt  it — this  having  to  keep  the  thing  month  in 
and  month  out,  a-bankin'  up  lint  under  the  bed  and 
a-devilin'  Lil, — and  her  blind,  at  that! 

Grandma  was  dead.  Those  living  nearest  hurried 
to  the  scene  to  "wash"  and  lay  out  the  corpse,  and 
remained  to  help  Melissa  get  ready  for  the  supreme 
function.  All  the  neighbors,  near  and  far,  or  at 
least  a  representative  from  each  household,  found  a 
means  of  coming  over  some  time  during  the  day  to 
express  sympathy  with  the  Thaggins  in  their  deep 
bereavement. 

Mary  Elizabeth  heard  the  news,  and  promptly 
closed  school  out  of  respect. 

John  Marshall  at  the  haunted  house  heard  it, 
somehow,  and  without  a  moment's  delay  rode  hard 
to  the  nearest  railroad  station  and  wired  somebody 
to  "come  at  once." 

Everybody  heard  it  and  got  ready  for  the  night 
watch. 

Scarcely  had  the  winter  twilight  gathered  her  robes 
about  her  and  stolen  into  the  west,  before  the  guests 
began  to  gather  at  the  Thaggui  home,  to  be  received 
at  the  threshold  by  certain  other  guests  who  had 
been  there  all  day  helping,  and  who  took  charge  of 
the  new-comers  with  a  tingle  of  self-importance  at 
being  "on  the  inside." 

Everything  was  ready.  The  feather  beds  were 
puffed  up  with  pride  at  being  decked  out  in  two  of 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         259 

grandma's  best  quilts,  and  the  red  and  white  of  the 
hospitably  inclined  pillow-shams  had  been  rendered 
redder  and  whiter  by  another  laundering  that  very 
day.  The  whole  room  had  been  redded-up  for  the 
occasion. 

Grandma  lay  in  state  in  the  centre  of  the  room  on 
a  bier  improvised  from  the  borrowed  door  of  the  hen 
house.  Melissa's  one  pair  of  bleached  sheets — it  was 
the  only  time  grandma  had  ever  been  allowed  to 
sleep  between  them — draped  the  bier  above  and  be 
low  the  wasted  alabaster  figure.  The  top  sheet  was 
turned  back  midway,  that  the  arriving  guests  might 
sate  their  morbid  curiosity  on  the  face  of  the  dead. 
A  saucer  of  salt  had  been  placed  on  the  stomach  of 
the  corpse  to  keep  it  from  swelling.  Thanks  to  Me 
lissa,  grandma  was  decked  out  in  her  best  bib  and 
tucker.  Shan  had  growled  at  the  extravagance  of 
burying  such  good  clothes,  but  for  once  Shan  had 
been  overruled.  Melissa  had  made  up  her  mind  to 
give  grandma  a  good  send-off,  and  she  had  carried 
her  every  point.  There  was  the  matter  of  the  coins 
on  the  eyes,  for  instance.  Shan  had  actually  been 
mean  enough  to  suggest  that  nickels  would  do  the 
work,  but  Melissa  had  put  quarters  there,  and  that  in 
the  full  knowledge  that  it  would  be  unspeakably  un 
lucky  to  spend  them  after  they  had  been  dedicated 
to  such  a  use !  But  the  most  thrilling  thing  of  all  was 
when  Melissa  took  Shan's  white  silk  handkerchief — 
the  one  he  had  bought  to  stick  out  of  his  pocket  when 
they  were  married,  and  the  very  one  he  had  "had 
on"  when  their  tintypes  were  taken  together — and 


260        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

sacrificed  it,  too.  Bringing  its  neat  catacornered 
folds  under  the  old  woman's  sagging  jaw,  Melissa 
had  knotted  the  long  ends  over  her  thin  gray  hair, 
effectually  shutting  up  grandma  for  the  last  time — 
and  she  tied  it  good  and  tight! 

But  Shan  had  one  consolation — he  made  up  for 
this  prodigal  waste  of  Melissa's  by  his  trade  for  Dil- 
sey  Sellers's  coffin.  To  begin  with,  Dilsey  had  bought 
the  thing  on  the  bargain  counter  and  had  herself 
got  a  sensational  reduction  on  the  first  price  of  it; 
in  the  second  place,  Shan  beat  Dilsey  down  shame 
fully  from  the  cost  to  herself  on  the  plea  that  the 
coffin  was  second-hand.  But  "shamefully"  is  per 
haps  too  strong  a  term  to  use  in  the  light  of  what 
really  transpired.  The  truth  is,  Dilsey  tried  to 
make  Shan  pay  the  first  cost  of  the  coffin  to  herself, 
plus  the  discount  that  the  undertaker  had  made  to 
her,  on  the  theory  that  this  wasn't  bargain  day. 
And  she  further  contended  that  she  ought  to  have 
some  return  for  housing  it  so  long,  and  for  all  the 
trouble  she  had  had  in  keeping  the  peace  between  it 
and  Lil. 

The  two  had  wrangled  a  good  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  over  the  trade — Shan  finding  every  conceivable 
flaw  in  the  casket  from  lack  of  durability  to  uncom 
fortable  knots  in  the  padding,  and  beating  Dilsey 
down,  down,  down,  till  she  struck  what  she  thought 
was  bottom  rock  in  the  original  seventeen  dollars 
and  ninety-eight  cents.  When  this  point  was 
reached,  Shan  offered  to  close  the  trade  for  twelve 
dollars,  cash.  Dilsey  held  out  for  her  price  as  long 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         261 

as  she  dared,  and  then  named  fourteen  as  the  lowest 
depths  to  which  any  woman  with  self-respect  could 
afford  to  fall.  At  this  point  Shan  flung  out  of  the 
house  with  the  last  word,  that  when  she  got  ready  to 
take  twelve  dollars  for  her  old  clothes-box,  she  could 
come  and  tell  him.  But  he  went  triumphing,  never 
theless.  He  knew  perfectly  well  that  he  would  be 
saving  money  to  meet  Dilsey's  price  of  fourteen  dol 
lars,  and  he  intended  fully  to  do  this,  if  her  self- 
respect  should  refuse  to  slump  further.  In  the  mean 
time,  he  had  twelve  hours  before  he  would  be  forced 
to  come  to  terms  with  her. 

After  his  sparring  match  with  Dilsey,  Shan  had 
taken  a  circuitous  and  sheltered  ride  through  the 
woods,  and  had  brought  up  at  the  haunted  house 
with  his  limbs  shaking  and  his  teeth  chattering,  for 
the  black  dark  had  crept  out  of  its  hiding-places  and 
enveloped  the  face  of  the  hills. 

The  stranger  had  met  him  at  the  door  and  the  two 
had  gone  into  the  haunted  house  together,  and  shut 
out  the  rest  of  the  world  from  them  for  one  long, 
mysterious  hour. 

When  Shan  got  home  from  his  secret  interview 
with  the  stranger,  he  found  that  Dilsey  and  Lil  Sel 
lers  had  beaten  him  to  his  abiding-place.  Dilsey  had 
come  to  say  that  on  account  of  her  step-mother's 
being  second  cousin  to  Melissa,  and  on  account  of  the 
coffin's  being  originally  bought  for  her — the  step 
mother — she  would  let  Shan  have  it  for  twelve 
dollars,  though  she  still  thought  it  no  part  of  a  Chris 
tian  to  beat  her  down  like  that.  In  point  of  fact, 


262         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

however,  Dilsey  had  come  because  she  couldn't  stay 
away  from  the  settin'-up.  And  Lil  had  come  because 
she  simply  would  not  submit  to  being  shut  up  alone 
at  night  with  what  still  lurked  under  the  bed. 

Dilsey  and  Shan  met  in  the  entry  and  had  it  out, 
after  which  two  kind  neighbors  were  despatched  with 
the  wagon  to  fetch  the  coffin. 

The  settin'-up  was  in  full  swing.  Nearly  every 
family  in  the  valley  had  furnished  at  least  one  rep 
resentative,  and  there  were  present,  also,  a  few  more 
distant  neighbors  who  had  come  from  over  the 
ridge. 

Everybody  had  duly  said  how  "natural"  grandma 
looked — but  in  God's  mercy  she  didn't — and  they 
had  told  each  other,  over  and  over,  that  there  never 
would  be  such  another  quilt-piecer  while  the  world 
stood.  Grandma's  notorious  stubbornness  had  be 
come  "firmness,"  her  vindictiveness  of  tongue,  "out 
spoke  honesty,"  and  her  lifelong  cupidity,  a  "thrifty 
savin'ness  of  nature  that  ought  to  be  a  lesson  to 
ever'body." 

When  Shan  arrived  and  passed  through  the  big 
room,  the  voices  of  the  watchers  grew  low  and  rever 
ent,  but  he  paid  no  heed  to  his  sympathizing  friends 
except  to  growl  out  some  sort  of  greeting  from  under 
the  flapping  eaves  of  his  old  wool  hat.  He  did  not 
so  much  as  glance  at  what  lay  in  state  in  the  centre 
of  the  apartment,  but  skulked  around  it  and  disap 
peared  into  the  shed-room  immediately  in  the  rear. 
Here  he  could  hardly  pass  for  the  trundle-beds  that 
had  been  added  to  the  other  rude  furniture  of  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        263 

room,  brought  here  to  make  .space  in  the  death- 
chamber. 

A  kerosene  lamp  on  a  tin  rack  at  the  side  of  the 
room  threw  a  dim,  uncertain  light  over  the  faces  of 
the  children  who  filled  the  beds  to  overflowing,  and 
who  had  dropped  asleep  clasped  in  each  other's  arms 
for  mortal  terror  of  the  thing  that  lay  between  the 
comp'ny  sheets  in  the  big  room.  Without  a  glance 
at  the  children,  Shan  went  out  into  the  entry  and 
into  the  other  front  room  in  search  of  Melissa.  Here 
he  found  her  with  several  other  women  loading  a  be 
decked  table  with  "nourishment"  for  the  watchers. 
And  he  stopped  Melissa  right  in  the  middle  of  stack 
ing  up  custards  against  the  slicing  of  them,  and  drew 
her  into  the  shed-room  kitchen  for  a  long,  whispered 
interview. 

In  the  big  room,  the  talk  had  grown  absorbing 
again.  The  oldest  inhabitant  related  how  grandma 
done  her  two  twins — them  that  died — about  the 
flour-sack  shirts  she  had  made  'em  with  the  red  and 
blue  letters  all  down  the  front  of  'em — of  how,  when 
the  twins  fought  over  the  one  that  had  the  red  let 
ters  on  it,  grandma  jes  nachully  took  both  shirts  to 
the  spring  an'  washed  all  the  letterin'  out.  She  was 
a  smart  woman  in  her  mind,  and  a  firm-handed  one, 
grandma  was. 

There  were  other  inhabitants,  not  so  old,  who  re 
membered  like  it  was  yesterday  what  a  powerful 
hand  grandma  used  to  be  at  meetin'  before  she  was 
took  down.  Why,  she  shouted  more  fervent-like 
even  than  Millie  Davis  herself,  though  it  wouldn't  do 


264        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

to  say  it  to  Millie!  Then  some  iconoclast  recalled 
how  Beck  Logan,  ridin'  by  meetin'  one  day  with 
Darius  Slaton,  had  remarked,  "Ri,  ol'  Sister  Thag- 
gin's  done  treed  the  Lord  agin,  don't  you  hear  her 
yelpin'?"  Everybody  was  properly  horrified  at  the 
iconoclast,  and  some  one  declared  that  Beck  Logan 
was  a  kind-hearted  critter  but  the  devil  had  a 
mortgage  on  him,  sure! 

By  eight  o'clock,  however,  the  unwonted  stir  about 
the  house  had  quieted,  and  the  settin'-up  had  begun 
to  take  on  the  real  settin'-up  feeling.  The  three  men 
who  were  left,  for  two  had  gone  for  the  coffin,  had 
been  persuaded  by  the  sisteren  to  lie  down  and  rest 
to  make  ready  for  their  labors  the  next  day.  The 
Thaggins  were  all  tucked  away  in  the  shed-room  and 
in  the  smaller  front  room  where  the  victuals  were 
spread,  leaving  the  two  beds  in  the  death-chamber 
to  accommodate  the  watchers  during  alternate  naps. 
On  the  two  beds  now  lay  the  menfolks,  snoring  great 
heavy,  reassuring  snores,  and  leaving  the  coast  de 
lightfully  clear  for  a  quiet,  gossipy  dip  by  the  sisteren. 
They  were  gathered  about  the  fire — close  together  for 
more  reasons  than  the  inclement  weather  afforded; 
and  they  shivered  every  now  and  then  for  the  same 
several  reasons.  Grandma's  dark-brown  snuff -bottle 
was  passed  ever  and  anon  among  them.  Aunt  Millie 
Davis  had  come  over  very  late  and  was  now  the  cen 
tre  of  the  group.  Bud,  who  had  escorted  her,  was 
among  the  sleepers. 

Bud's  version  of  the  rumor  about  John  Marshall 
and  Bud's  idea  of  Mary  Elizabeth's  part  in  the  drama 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         265 

had  just  been  given  by  old  Sister  Davis,  and  her 
listeners  were  agape;  there  had  been  much  of  Uncle 
Beck's  influence  in  the  story  as  they  had  first  heard 
it,  but  this  was  more  to  their  taste. 

"An'  you  say  she  jes  handed  him  that  thar  place  o' 
Silas's? — Land  sakes!  Viney,  what  was  that?"  It 
was  Dilsey  that  questioned,  and  the  assembled  com 
pany  demanded  in  one  staccato  stage  whisper: 

"What!" 

"Sump'n  mo-oaned,"  whimpered  the  blind  Lil, 
and  she  pressed  closer  to  her  sister's  side. 

"Pshaw,  hit's  jes  the  wind!"  exclaimed  Aunt  Mil 
lie,  impatient  at  the  interruption  of  the  main  theme. 
"  Y'  all  done  got  so  you  air  skeered  o'  the  very  men 
tion  o'  that  old  place!" 

"I  ain't  afeard  nor  a-skeered,"  retorted  Dilsey, 
hotly,  "I'm  jes  pestered,  for  I've  done  come  to  the 
p'int  whar  I  almost  b'lieve  hit's  onlucky  to  talk 
about  hit. — Aunt  Millie,  I — I — wisht  you'd  a-let 
that  sheet  stay  turned  down.  Somehow  I'd  ruther — 
see " 

ov/w 

"Thar  ain't  nothin'  under  that  sheet  but  what  I 
kivered  up  with  hit,  Dilsey." 

"Wa-al,  that's  enough."  And  they  all  glanced 
again  at  the  something  that  lay  covered  before  them 
— which,  though  covered,  supported  the  draping 
sheet  here  and  there  at  little  points  of  contact,  giving 
ghastly  suggestions  out  of  which  the  imagination 
could  easily  construct  the  grewsome  whole. 

But  the  old  woman  reverted  impatiently  to  Mary 
Elizabeth  again: 


266        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"An'  she's  done  got  a  notion  that  she  can't  eat 
none  o'  my  victuals,"  she  complained,  treasuring 
against  the  girl  that  sin  as  unpardonable.  "She's 
jes  nachully  nearly  stopped  eatin'  altogether,  an' 
Babe's  takin'  on  'bout  hit  tell  I'm  plum  'shamed  o' 
him." 

"What's  that!"  the  assembled  company  ex 
claimed  again,  and  with  good  reason.  A  long,  low 
wail  had  risen  from  somewhere  and  trembled  along 
the  night.  And  for  the  space  of  that  wailing,  the 
watchers  by  the  dead  were  as  fixed  as  gravestones; 
but  a  familiar  yap  at  the  end  of  the  long,  low,  horrible 
sound  brought  life  into  them  again. 

"Ah-h-h — that's  Punchus  Pilate  a-howlin'  under 
the  house,"  explained  some  one.  "That's  the  mean 
est  cur  dog  in  the  valley,  an'  nobody  but  Shan  Thag- 
gin  would  have  him  skulkin'  'round." 

"Hit's  a  mighty  bad  sign  when  they  howl  'round 
dead  folks  like  that,"  ventured  another.  "But 
speakin'  o'  Ma'y  'Lizbeth — Lord,  why  don't  that 
dog  hush? — did  anybody  git  out  o'  Melissa  what  hit 
was  that  grandma  said  'bout  the  gal  when  she  was 
a-dyin'?" 

"No,  an'  they  never  will.  But  hit  wa'n't  nothin' 
to  Ma'y  'Lizbeth's  credit,  you  kin  be  mighty  sure, 
or  Melissa'd  a-told  hit  with  her  very  next  breath — 
she's  that  crazy  'bout  her.  Melissa  an'  Sue  were  the 
only  ones  with  grandma  at  the  last,  an'  only  them 
two  knows.  Sue  started  to  let  hit  out  this  mornin' 
when  I  was  a-dressin'  grandma,  but  Melissa  made 
her  shet  her  mouth,  double  quick."  It  was  one  of 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         267 

the  nearest  neighbors,  the  one  who  had  reached  the 
scene  of  interest  first,  who  answered. 

"Dyin'  people  knows,"  pronounced  Aunt  Millie 
with  slow,  impressive  emphasis.  The  others  looked 
at  her  and  at  each  other  with  solemn,  slow  nods  of 
agreement.  Mary  Elizabeth's  fate  was  sealed,  and 
sealed  by  that  slight  something  that  lay  covered  be 
fore  them. 

Old  Mrs.  Davis  suddenly  leaned  forward  in  a  most 
confidential  attitude: 

"I  wouldn't  have  y'all  to  let  hit  git  back  to  Babe 
for  the  world  before  hit  comes  off,  but  Bud  an'  Trav 
Williams  have  done  agreed  to  turn  Ma'y  'Lizbeth 
outen  the  school  the  first  o'  the  month.  Thar's  jes 
three  trustees  in  all,  Beck  Login  bein'  the  third,  but 
his  vote  don't  count  ef  the  other  two  air  ag'in  him." 

There  were  exclamations  of  surprise  and  approval, 
but  not  one  note  of  dissenting,  unless,  indeed,  Pontius 
Pilate's  voice,  now  borne  on  the  night  again,  were 
raised  in  protest. 

"But  they've  done  signed  up  with  her  for  nine 
months,  ain't  they,  Aunt  Millie?"  Viney  asked  with 
hesitation. 

"The  law  says  they  kin  turn  'em  out  for  cause" 
the  old  woman  answered  firmly. 

The  weird,  ominous  howl  of  the  dog  rose  again. 
Several  looked  toward  the  bed  as  if  they  would  have 
to  wake  the  sleepers  if  this  thing  kept  up.  But  one 
of  the  number  was  just  explaining  that  you  can't 
keep  a  dog  from  howling  when  there's  death  in  the 
air  any  more  than  you  can  keep  a  cat  from  scratching 


268        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

a  corpse,  when  other  sounds  from  the  outer  darkness 
began  to  mingle  with  the  plaint  of  Pontius  Pilate. 
At  first  they  were  weirdly  indistinct  sounds  and  might 
portend  anything.  At  length,  however,  they  began 
to  gather  definite  meaning  to  themselves.  And  then 
the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  and  of  wheels  became  plain 
enough  to  the  most  nervous — and  at  last,  voices. 
The  coffin!  It  had  arrived!  The  sound  of  shuffling 
feet  on  the  porch  outside  told  that  something  heavy 
was  being  handled.  And  now  the  door  was  opening, 
and  a  long,  black  something  was  being  lifted  in,  feet 
foremost !  If  the  thing  had  arrived  of  its  own  volition 
it  could  not  have  scared  them  worse! 

In  a  few  minutes,  however,  a  fairly  normal  state 
of  public  mind  had  been  established.  Two  tired, 
half-frozen  men  were  stamping  their  benumbed  heels 
on  the  wide  stone  hearth,  and  shaking  the  sleet  from 
their  heavy  jeans  clothes;  while  the  womenfolk, 
cheered  and  reassured  by  their  welcome  presence, 
gave  back  to  allow  them  the  benefit  of  the  fire,  and 
plied  them  with  a  volley  of  questions. 

The  coffin  had  been  deposited  on  chairs  beside  the 
corpse,  and  the  women  had  got  familiar  with  it,  and 
were  now  examining  it  minutely  through  their  spec 
tacles  to  judge  for  themselves  the  equity  of  the  trade 
between  Dilsey  and  Shan.  Various  were  the  con 
clusions  arrived  at,  but  as  Shan  was  absent  and  Dil 
sey  right  there  they  all  partook  of  a  common  bias. 

The  exception  to  the  rule  was,  as  usual,  Aunt  Millie 
Davis.  Dilsey  had  just  detailed  to  them  again  the 
ins  and  outs  of  the  bargain,  and  explained  how,  on 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         269 

account  of  the  coffin's  being  a  sort  of  tie  between 
herself  and  Melissa,  she  could  afford  to  stretch  her 
self-respect  to  the  extent  of  two  dollars  more,  when 
Aunt  Millie  remarked,  incisively: 

"Wa-al,  you  know,  Dilsey,  when  all's  said,  the 
coffin  is  second-handed;  an'  Melissa  told  me  that  she 
told  you  with  her  own  mouth  not  to  consider  her 
feelin's." 

Pontius  Pilate  put  in  again  at  this  juncture.  He 
seemed  to  be  forcing  his  feelings  on  their  considera 
tion.  A  shiver  ran  through  the  crowd,  but  Dilsey 
could  not  allow  even  this  uncanny  interlude  to  divert 
her  from  the  last  word. 

"Wa-al,  Melissa's  awful  high  an'  mighty  about  her 
feelin's  lately,"  she  snapped.  "  She  didn't  uster  give 
herself  no  such  airs  before  she  got  that  orgin.  I 
could  a-had  a  orgin,  too,  I  kin  tell  her,  ef  I'd  a-been 
willin'  to  git  Uncle  Beck  to  take  the  wroppers  off'n 
ever'  bar  o'  soap  he  sold  an'  save  hit  for  me,  lessen 
the  buyer  kicked  about  hit!" 

"La,  Dilsey,  ain't  you  got  th'ough  with  them  soap 
wroppers  an'  that  orgin  yet!"  asked  another,  wearily. 

There  was  something  of  a  suppressed  flurry  among 
them  when  it  came  to  getting  grandma  into  Dilsey 's 
step-mother's  coffin,  and  it  looked  for  a  little  while 
as  if  she  were  still  not  ready  to  relinquish  her  long 
standing  opposition  to  it.  But  a  little  coaxing  and 
a  little  crowding  accomplished  the  work  to  the  satis 
faction  at  least  of  all  who  were  on  the  outside,  and  a 
general  sigh  of  relief  after  tension  was  sent  up. 

After  that  somebody  suggested  that  they  wake 


270        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

up  the  others  and  go  in  and  get  a  "bite  o'  sump'n 
t'eat"  just  to  keep  up  their  strength.  The  sugges 
tion  was  acted  on  with  alacrity,  and  the  "bite"  mul 
tiplied  itself  manyfold  under  the  temptation  of 
Melissa's  bountiful  supply  of  soda  biscuits  and  fried 
chicken  and  coffee. 

Then  they  returned  to  the  death-chamber  again 
and  to  the  insistent  wailing  of  Pontius  Pilate,  for  he 
had  entrenched  himself,  so  to  speak,  right  under  IT! 
But  this  was  becoming  intolerable,  and  one  of  the 
women  exclaimed,  impatiently: 

"Lem,  for  goodness  sakes,  go  out  an'  do  sump'n 
to  that  air  dog!" 

"What?" 

"Anything!" 

The  time  came,  however,  when  not  even  Pontius 
Pilate's  unearthly  wail,  not  the  thing  that  they 
were  watching,  could  avail  to  keep  open  the  heavy 
eyes  of  the  setters-up. 

One  after  another  they  fell  at  their  posts,  and  mid 
night  found  them  sound  asleep  in  their  chairs,  dead 
to  the  terrors  that  walked  the  night. 

The  next  thing  any  of  them  knew,  the  morning 
sunlight  was  streaming  in  the  unshaded  window,  and 
there  were  sounds  of  life  in  the  other  rooms.  Then 
all  had  much  ado  pretending  that  they  had  not 
slept,  but  had  just  "rested"  and  kept  quiet  for  the 
sake  of  the  Thaggins.  And  they  told  each  other 
what  light  sleepers  they  were,  anyway,  and  how  they 
had  counted  the  long  hours  of  that  awful  night.  And 
then  the  breakfast  bell  rang. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         271 

Melissa  Thaggin  never  told  them  that  she  had 
passed  all  about  among  them,  nearly  two  hours 
before,  dressed,  and  about  her  day's  work.  Melissa 
was  a  considerate  woman,  and  besides,  she  had 
"watched,"  herself. 

After  breakfast  Mary  Elizabeth  came  over — she 
had  begged  a  ride  on  a  passing  wagon  that  was  com 
ing  that  way — and  asked  if  she  couldn't  do  something 
to  relieve  those  who  had  been  watching  through  the 
night.  Melissa  met  her  in  the  entry  when  she  came 
in,  and  received  her  cordially;  but  when  she  ushered 
her  into  the  big  room,  a  distinct  chill  fell  upon  the 
group.  If  Mary  Elizabeth  noticed  the  coldness  of 
their  greeting,  however,  she  accepted  it  as  one  ex 
pression  of  that  quiet  which  is  ever  the  tribute  of 
the  living  to  the  dead,  and  gave  it  no  further 
thought. 

Melissa,  anxious  to  fail  naught  in  hospitality,  in 
sisted  on  having  her  see  how  "natural"  grandma 
looked,  and  uncovered  before  her  the  face  of  the 
dead  woman.  But  Mary  Elizabeth  suddenly  put  up 
her  hand  to  screen  away  the  sight,  and  her  face  was 
the  color  of  marble  as  she  turned  quickly  away  and 
walked  to  the  fire.  The  "watchers,"  watching  now 
for  sure,  immediately  read  something  sinister  into 
the  occurrence.  "She  couldn't  face  grandma,"  they 
told  each  other  in  whispers,  and  they  recalled  to  each 
other  that  white  look  of  Silas's,  and  wrote  down 
Mary  Elizabeth's  exquisite,  flawless  skin  on  the 
tablets  of  their  memories  against  her.  Uncle  Beck 
could  have  illuminated  the  latter  subject  if  he  had 


272         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

been  there  to  tell  the  story  of  how  Mary  Elizabeth 
had  flayed  herself  alive  to  get  rid  of  her  freckles; 
and  the  girl  herself  could  have  taken  whatever 
there  was  of  the  suspicious  out  of  the  situation  if 
she  had  told  them  that  the  heart  within  her  was 
aching  because  she  had  let  grandma  go  for  days 
without  her  cough  medicine  before  she  could  make 
up  her  mind  to  ask  credit  at  the  cross-roads  store. 

And  then  the  unexpected  happened.  All  unan 
nounced  and  unheralded,  Uncle  Beck  and  Trav  Will 
iams  came  driving  up  the  wood  road  that  skirted  the 
back  of  the  main  lot  just  behind  the  cow-pen,  and 
pulled  up  at  the  back  steps,  almost  before  anybody 
saw  them.  The  excitement  was  intense.  First  of 
all,  and  outweighing  all  else,  was  the  feeling  that  the 
two  men  had  brought  back  with  them  the  news  of 
the  fate  of  all  that  valley;  and  second — but  sub 
conscious,  and  so,  deeply  instinctive — was  the  un 
accountable  pride  in  what  they  had  to  spring  on 
the  returning  heroes.  It  was  as  if  this  ever-old, 
ever-new  wonder  of  Death,  this  mysteriously  elating 
thing,  this  thrillingly  solemn  and  important  thing, 
in  some  way  reflected  credit  on  themselves.  And, 
indeed,  they  showed  Uncle  Beck  and  Trav  what 
they  had  in  Dilsey's  step-mother's  coffin  before  a 
single  question  was  asked. 

The  two  men  stood  for  a  moment  uncovered  before 
what  they  saw,  murmuring  the  things  that  have 
been  said  under  similar  circumstances  perhaps  ever 
since  the  very  institution  of  death. 

Then  Uncle  Beck  raised  his  head,  and,  with  a  light 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         273 

in  his  fine  old  eyes,  said  impressively:  "Neighbors, 
hit's  all  right.  John  Marshall  can't  make  a  lake 
here  big  enough  to  wash  his  feet  in." 

Mary  Elizabeth  was  beside  the  coffin  so  quickly 
and  so  silently  that  the  company  gave  a  distinct 
start.  Her  grasp  was  nervously  laid  on  one  of  the 
handles,  she  was  leaning  over  the  dead  toward  the 
storekeeper. 

"How,  Uncle  Beck,  how  ?"  she  breathed. 

"Why,"  and,  in  answering  Mary  Elizabeth,  he 
addressed  the  whole  breathlessly  silent,  listening 
crowd — "why,  Shan  Thaggin  has  got  titles  to  this 
place  that  air  as  good  as  gold,  an'  tell  Shan  is  willin' 
to  sell  his  neighbors'  an'  his  friends'  chances  for  the 
price  of  one  small  farm,  John  Marshall  won't  be  able 
to  flood  a  foot  o'  the  valley.  You  see,  he'd  have  to 
own  the  whole  space  flooded,  b'cause  the  law  wouldn't 
allow  him  to  ruin  any  other  man's  property." 

"How  'bout  him  gittin'  titles  to  the  other  lands?" 
asked  one  of  the  more  intelligent.  "Seems  to  me 
we  ain't  out  o'  the  woods  yit." 

A  shade  passed  over  the  old  man's  face.  "Why," 
he  replied,  "we  don't  know  'bout  that  yit,  but  ex 
pect  to  hear  shortly.  But  we  don't  b'lieve  a  word  of 
hit.  You  see  Trav  an'  me  would  a-had  to  go  clean 
to  Montgom'ry  to  find  out  'bout  them  lands  what 
they  say  air  public  lands.  An'  when  we  lit  on  the 
facts  about  this  here  place  o'  Shan's,  Trav's  judg 
ment  was  that  that  settled  the  whole  matter.  You 
see  he  reasoned  hit  thiswise :  the  only  thing  that  man 
Marshall  could  possibly  want  with  any  of  the  lands 


274        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

was  for  his  reservoy  scheme.  Ef  that  was  blocked, 
he'd  mighty  soon  pull  up  stakes  an'  go  back  whar  he 
come  from.  That's  the  way  Trav  put  hit  down,  an' 
he  was  satisfied  as  far  as  his  own  interests  went. 
But  y'all  know  how  thoughtful  Trav  is  of  his  neigh 
bors.  Wa-al,  when  I  put  hit  to  him  how  we'd  bet 
ter  send  or  go  to  Montgom'ry  an'  find  out  about 
them  other  lands,  he  agreed  at  onct,  an'  put  his 
hand  in  his  own  pocket  for  the  advance  fees.  We 
got  our  lawyer  to  promise  to  go  jes  as  soon  as  he 
could  possibly  git  the  time.  I  was  for  our  goin'  on 
to  Montgom'ry,  ourselves,  but  Trav  he  couldn't  see 
hit  that  a-way.  He  'lowed  he  could  influence  Shan, 
ef  influence  was  needed  in  a  case  like  this,  an'  the 
lawyer  could  do  the  rest." 

When  Uncle  Beck  finished  speaking,  his  listeners 
were  as  silent  as  the  figure  in  their  midst,  but  every 
eye  was  turned  on  Shan  Thaggin,  whose  face  had 
suddenly  grown  drawn  and  pasty.  One  long,  ago 
nizing  silence,  and  then  Trav  Williams's  harsh  and 
grating  voice  demanded: 

"How 'bout  hit,  Shan?" 

"  I — I " — the  creature  almost  writhed  as  he 
brought  it  out — "I — I — do-d-done  already  sold — I 
d-d-didn't  know " 

Mary  Elizabeth  started  back  with  a  smothered 
cry,  and  Trav  Williams  bored  his  right  fist  into  the 
palm  of  the  other  hand  while  his  eyes  narrowed  to  a 
hideous  line.  Except  for  a  horrified,  incredulous  in 
take  of  breath,  every  other  soul  in  the  room  stood 
transfixed.  All,  that  is,  except  the  wife  of  the  man 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         275 

who  held  his  neighbors  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand. 
Melissa  Thaggin  looked  her  lord  and  master  over, 
from  the  crown  of  his  cymling-shaped  head  to  the 
knees  that  were  shaking  under  him,  again,  and  yet 
again;  and  with  each  look  the  woman  grew  visibly 
taller  and  straighter.  If  anybody  there  had  ever 
doubted  which  was  the  better  man  of  the  two,  he 
never  doubted  again  after  seeing  Melissa  absolutely 
blight  the  father  of  her  children  with  the  fire  of  her 
splendid  scorn.  Having  looked  what  she  thought  of 
Shan,  Melissa  turned  to  the  storekeeper. 

"Uncle  Beck,"  she  asked,  in  clear  and  measured 
tones,  "a  sale  ain't  a  sale  tell  the  wife's  name  is 
signed  to  hit,  is  hit?  " 

All  the  fire  of  a  quickly  revivified  hope  was  in 
Uncle  Beck's  simple  "No,  Melissa." 

"Then  this  place  ain't  sold,  an'  hit  ain't  a-goin'  to 
be  sold  I" 

In  the  excitement  that  was  precipitated,  Shan 
Thaggin  escaped  to  the  shed-room  at  the  rear  and 
barred  himself  in  against  the  scorn  and  reproach  of 
his  neighbors,  and  Mary  Elizabeth  slipped  out  to  the 
deserted  hearth  in  the  other  front  room,  to  have  it 
out  with  the  heart  in  her  breast,  which  was  trying  to 
smother  her. 

She  had  destroyed  John  Marshall's  wonderful 
scheme!  She  had  quenched  forever  that  splendid 
fire  that  had  been  wont  to  blaze  up  within  him  at  the 
very  mention  of  it.  She  had  killed  a  vital  part 
of  him — his  ambitions.  And  when  the  thought  of 
it  all  was  too  cruel  to  be  borne  longer,  a  lesser,  but 


276        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

more  pitiable  regret  welled  up  again,  bringing  the 
tears  that  had  been  dried  at  their  fountain-head  by 
that  burning  other  sorrow:  She  had  let  grandma  go 
without  her  medicine! 

Then  Uncle  Beck  came  in  search  of  her,  and  found 
her  standing  before  the  fire,  blinking  vainly  to  keep 
back  the  tears.  The  old  man  watched  her  hi  silence 
for  a  few  minutes  to  be  sure  of  her  mood.  After  a 
little  he  crossed  over  to  her  and  put  his  arm  about 
her  waist: 

"What's  the  matter,  honey?"  he  asked  tenderly. 

The  blue  eyes  overflowed.  "Uncle  Beck,  I — I — 
let  her  go  without  her  cough  medicine  a  long  time, 
just  because  I  hated  to  ask  you  to  credit  me — I — I 
didn't  have  any  money  left" — she  was  crying  on  his 
shoulder  now,  "and — and  I  brought  it  at  last,  too 
late!" 

"Thar  now,  honey,  don't  cry.  Hit  was  all  right. 
I  fixed  hit  myself,  for  I  sont  the  old  sin — the  old 
Christian — a  bottle  the  very  day  hit  give  out  an' 
you  told  her  you  was  busted.  Shan  was  down  to  the 
sto'  that  very  evenin',  a-quar'lin'  'bout  you  deceivin' 
grandma,  an'  I  took  in  the  siterwation  an'  sont  him 
packin'  back  with  my  compliments  an'  the  medicine. 
I  'lowed  that  conscience  o'  yourn  would  jump  on 
you  some  day,  an'  I  was  layin'  for  hit." 

"Oh,  Uncle  Beck,  you  are  the  best 

"Go  slow,  honey,  go  slow.  Shan  Thaggin  paid 
for  that  physic!" 

"Why,  how?" 

"I  put  twict  the  price  of  hit  onto  the  price  of  a 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         277 

swingletree  he  bought  that  same  day.  I  doubled  hit 
b'cause  I  knowed  he  was  a-goin'  to  kick,  an'  I'd  have 
to  leave  myself  a  margin  to  fall.  Shan  r'ared,  o' 
course,  an'  swore  he  hadn't  heerd  o'  no  rise  in 
swingletrees,  but  I  jes  laid  hit  all  on  Wall  Street 
an'  knocked  off  from  the  price  half  of  what  I  had 
put  onto  hit — on  account  o'  hits  bein'  Shan,  an'  me 
bein'  so  fond  o'  him." 

Mary  Elizabeth  was  smiling  through  her  tears. 
"And  how  in  the  world  did  you  come  to  lay  it  on 
Wall  Street,  Uncle  Beck?" 

"Why,  thar  come  a  long-haired  candidate  a-speak- 
in'  th'ough  here  last  summer,  an'  he  laid  ever'thing, 
from  eternal  damnation  to  the  boll  weevil,  on  sump'n 
he  called  'Wall  Street,'  an'  he  got  Shan  an'  some  o' 
the  others  tur'ble  excited  'bout  hit.  So,  you  see,  I 
jes  keeps  Wall  Street  up  my  sleeve  tell  I  need  hit." 
The  old  man  smiled  cunningly  at  his  own  finesse. 
"You  see,  honey,"  he  explained,  "hit's  my  business 
to  beat  'em  a-tradin'." 

The  two  sat  down  by  the  fire  for  a  talk,  and  Mary 
Elizabeth  gradually  showed  the  old  man  everything 
that  was  in  her  heart — everything,  except  the  picture 
of  a  strong  man's  face,  hurt  to  the  quick,  and  the 
pain  it  brought  her. 

But  it  was  not  until  other  subjects  were  exhausted 
between  them  that  Mary  Elizabeth  found  heart  to 
ask  the  question  that  had  been  trying  to  force  itself 
to  her  lips  ever  since  he  entered. 

"Uncle  Beck,  oughtn't  you  to  have  gone  to  Mont 
gomery  at  once,  and  not  waited  on  that  lawyer?" 


278        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  old  man  took  down  his  spectacles  from  where 
they  rested  on  his  thin  gray  hair  and  adjusted  them 
to  his  eyes.  He  leaned  toward  her  now  with  his 
shrewd  countenance  keenly  awake. 

"  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,"  he  said,  "  I  was  up  a  tree.  Trav 
wouldn't  go,  b'cause  he  said  he  had  to  come  back 
an'  git  his  hands  on  that  greased  eel,  Shan  Thaggin, 
as  quick  as  possible;  an'  I  didn't  dare  to  let  Trav 
git  back  here  to  Bud  Davis  'thout  me  bein'  here  to 
keep  him  toned  down,  so  I  couldn't  go  by  myself." 

"Uncle  Beck"  and  the  name  escaped  her  like  a 
suppressed  cry,  "is  there — is  there  danger  to — him?" 

The  old  man  started  to  say  something  while  yet 
his  face  was  clouded,  and  then  deliberately  stopped, 
smiled  cheerily,  and  exclaimed: 

"Lord  he'p  that  skeered  face  of  you,  ain't  /  here, 
child?" 

But  Uncle  Beck's  cheeriness  failed  to  reassure  the 
girl  after  she  had  passed  from  under  the  beneficence 
of  his  comforting  smile. 

John  Marshall  was  in  danger — in  danger  now  of 
worse  than  defeat!  She  knew  it,  for  Uncle  Beck  had 
as  good  as  said  it.  And  that  was  what  Babe  had 
meant  when  he  told  her  that  she  had  made  a  mistake 
in  telling  that  story  to  Bud.  Then  Bud's  evil  face 
came  up  before  her,  and  following  in  its  wake  a  troop 
of  evils  that  had  not  yet  taken  shape,  and  the  girl, 
through  her  sensitive  fear,  was  face  to  face  with  the 
overshadowing,  menacing  truth. 

John  Marshall  was  in  danger  and  through  her, 
through  what  she  had  told!  In  spite  of  all  their  talk 


279 

of  lawyers,  of  justice  through  the  courts,  in  spite  of 
Melissa's  splendid  self-sacrifice 'that  had  seemed  to 
be  the  final,  determining  stroke  in  the  contest  that 
was  being  waged,  danger  was  in  the  air.  Uncle 
Beck  had  been  afraid  to  trust  Trav  Williams  and 
Bud  together  away  from  his  own  influence;  and  Babe 
had  lately  come  to  be  immersed  in  deep  and  troubled 
thought. 

There  was  something  impending,  something  immi 
nent,  and  she,  Mary  Elizabeth,  had  conjured  that 
something  into  being! 

When  the  darkness  came  down  about  her  that 
night  it  somehow  entered  into  the  soul  of  her,  and 
there  was  no  light  anywhere,  not  even  the  remem 
bered  light  of  those  grave  and  searching  eyes.  And 
in  vain  seemed  all  her  summoning.  The  guardian 
spirit  of  the  better  self  of  her  had  withdrawn,  she 
knew  not  where.  Why  had  he  wrapped  himself 
away? 

Could  it  be  that  she  had  blundered?  As  between 
this  man  who  sought  to  usurp  and  this  race  that  had 
usurped,  as  between  the  restless,  burning,  consuming 
ambitions  of  the  one  and  the  vital  traditions  of  the 
other,  where  was  the  right?  Could  a  system  that 
sacrificed  even  one — any  one — to  the  good  of  the 
many  remain  the  outpost  of  man's  search  for  justice? 

If  only  the  Hearer  of  Prayer  cared! 


CHAPTER  XXI 

THE  loose  dirt  had  hardly  been  shovelled  in  on 
grandma  before  rumor  threw  discretion  to  the  four 
winds  and  went  rioting  up  and  down  the  valley : 

The  stranger  had  been  defeated — ignominiously 
defeated,  and  Melissa  Thaggin  had  told  him  with  her 
own  mouth  what  she  thought  of  him;  Shan  Thag 
gin  was — but  la!  what  could  you  expect  of  Shan 
Thaggin?  The  stranger  was  going  to  leave  right 
away  and  take  refuge  in  England  or  Memphis  or 
some  other  remote  and  obscure  hiding-place;  he  was 
plumb  whipped  out  and  scared  to  death,  and  he  was 
glad  to  get  out  of  it  all  with  a  whole  skin;  important 
news  coming  very,  very  soon  from  The  Lawyer — 
rumor  spoke  of  him  as  if  there  were  only  one  of  the 
species;  and  enough  more  of  the  same  tenor  to  defer 
for  a  time  the  crisis  that  threatened.  Just  how  far 
the  old  storekeeper  was  responsible  for  these  wild 
statements  only  one  man  in  that  valley  knew. 

But  Uncle  Beck  had  no  easy  time  of  it  to  hold  his 
neighbors  in  the  path  of  peace,  even  after  they  were 
satisfied  of  John  Marshall's  defeat.  The  thirst  to 
"be  even"  with  the  man  who  had  tried  to  defraud 
them  was  scarcely  to  be  controlled,  and  a  lesser  man 
than  the  old  storekeeper  could  not  have  done  it. 

He  was  playing  for  time.  That  the  stranger  would 
fulfil  the  prophecies  he  had  promulgated  about  him, 

280 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         281 

he  did  not  doubt.  He  would  leave,  of  course,  now 
that  Mary  Elizabeth  had  been  put  straight  with  her 
people — and  the  old  man  fondly  hoped  that  she  had, 
for  there  was  not  in  all  that  valley  a  man  who  had 
the  temerity  to  tell  him  how  Aunt  Millie  Davis,  to 
gether  with  the  implacable  Bud,  was  persistently 
discrediting  his  estimate  of  the  girl  to  the  people. 

He  was  playing  for  time  for  John  Marshall  to 
gather  himself  together  and  go  in  peace. 

But  the  stranger  at  the  haunted  house  made  no 
sign.  The  general  public  expected  something  vivid 
and  startling  from  him  when  Melissa  Thaggin 
blocked  his  ambitious  project,  but  the  general  public 
was  disappointed.  It  seemed  that  he  was  to  con 
tinue  to  keep  them  in  suspense.  Instead  of  disap 
pearing  as  if  the  earth  had  swallowed  him  up,  as  was 
confidently  expected,  he  continued  to  share  the  lodg 
ing  of  Whitefaced  Silas,  and  to  come  and  go  on  his 
big  bay  horse  as  was  his  wont.  About  the  only 
change  that  took  place  in  him  was,  perhaps,  due  more 
to  a  change  in  the  imagination  of  the  lookers-on  than 
in  the  man  himself.  The  change  in  his  on-lookers 
but  served  to  render  him  more  mysterious,  more  in 
ghoulish  harmony  with  the  place  in  which  he  had 
ensconced  himself,  and  more  responsible  with  it  for 
past  misfortunes  and  for  evils  yet  to  come. 

They  hated  him  to  a  man,  and  they  grew  more  and 
more  restive  in  face  of  the  increasing  mystery  that 
was  wrapping  him  about. 

Uncle  Beck  had  assured  them  that  Marshall  would 
leave  as  soon  as  he  could  get  himself  and  his  affairs 


282         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

ready,  because,  his  scheme  being  defeated,  he  could 
have  now  no  reason  for  staying.  But  it  seemed  to 
be  taking  the  stranger  an  unconscionable  time  to 
get  himself  and  his  affairs  ready,  and  there  were 
those  who  began  to  regret  their  promise  of  peace 
to  Beck  Logan. 

To  Mary  Elizabeth,  the  suspense  occasioned  by 
John  Marshall's  delay  in  leaving  was  all  but  unbear 
able.  She,  too,  had  expected  him  to  go  as  soon  as 
he  was  assured  of  defeat,  and  his  failure  to  do  so 
unleashed  her  wildest  fears  for  him.  She  knew  that 
he  despised  the  people  there  and  chafed  under  his 
narrow  life  among  them.  Then  why  didn't  he  go? 
What  could  be  keeping  the  man  days  and  days 
after  Melissa  Thaggin  had  herself  pronounced  to  him 
her  ultimatum?  Mary  Elizabeth  appealed  to  Babe 
about  it,  and  Babe  promised  her  to  warn  Marshall. 
She  went  to  Uncle  Beck  with  her  fears,  and  asked 
him  if  she  wouldn't  better  see  Marshall,  herself,  and 
beg  him  to  leave;  but  Uncle  Beck  lost  his  temper  at 
her  and  told  her  to  keep  away  from  the  man.  She 
talked  to  Trav  Williams,  and  to  Bud  and  Aunt  Mil 
lie,  and  to  Ri  Slaton  and  anybody  else  who  would 
listen  about  the  good  qualities  she  had  found  in  Mar 
shall,  reminding  them  how  close  she  had  been  to  him 
and  how  well  she  knew  him.  She  pleaded  for  peace 
up  and  down  the  valley,  with  what  success  only 
the  low,  insinuating  glances  exchanged  behind  her 
back  could  rightly  index. 

The  loose  dirt  had  not  had  time  to  pack  down 
hard  over  grandma,  nor  the  country  roads  to  dry, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         283 

before  Mary  Elizabeth's  interference  between  Trav 
Williams  and  his  coveted  rosy-cheeked  prey  began 
to  bear  fruit. 

Brought  to  bay,  Melissa  Thaggin  flatly  refused  to 
marry  her  young  daughter  to  the  man;  and,  harried 
by  her  opposers,  all  unintentionally  let  out  the  cause 
of  her  change  of  heart.  Mary  Elizabeth  had  advised 
her  not  to  let  this  marriage  be  consummated  because 
Trav  Williams  was  "old,  hard,  violent,  mean,"  etc., 
etc.  Melissa  confessed  this  to  her  enraged  husband, 
and  the  enraged  husband  communicated  it  at  once  to 
Trav  Williams. 

But  though  Melissa  was  the  immediate  bar  to  the 
fruition  of  his  plans,  Trav's  wrath  descended  in  full 
violence  on  the  head  of  Mary  Elizabeth.  Melissa 
had  always  been  in  Trav's  good  graces,  and  lately 
she  had  been  set  upon  a  pinnacle  in  his  esteem.  It 
was  Melissa  who  had  defeated  the  hated  stranger  in 
his  project  to  bring  their  valley  to  ruin,  for  Melissa 
had  not  only  refused  to  sign  her  name  to  the  trans 
fer  of  her  property  for  a  price  that  was  staggering 
— they  had  all  heard  the  details  by  now — but  had 
remained  steadfast  in  her  refusal. 

With  his  hand  forced  by  Melissa,  Shan  made  the 
best  attempt  of  which  he  was  capable  to  make  his 
acquiescence  in  his  wife's  determination  not  to  sell 
seem  hearty  and  spontaneous.  He  had  pretended 
ignorance  of  the  fact  that  his  wife's  signature  was 
necessary  to  make  the  transfer  valid,  and  explained 
that  he  had  thought  a  verbal  agreement,  made  be 
tween  the  stranger  and  himself  just  before  grand- 


284        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

ma's  death,  constituted  a  bona  fide  trade.  And  the 
neighbors  had  outwardly  accepted  his  explanation 
for  Melissa's  sake. 

But  all  the  same,  not  Trav  Williams  nor  any  other 
soul  in  that  valley  believed  but  that  Melissa  had  to 
fight  their  battle  over  every  time  she  and  her  husband 
were  alone  together.  That  Shan  Thaggin  would  be 
tray  the  last  interest  of  the  last  one  of  them  for  a 
price,  not  a  mother's  son  of  them  doubted,  so  they 
looked  to  Melissa  as  the  savior  of  their  earthly  inter 
ests.  The  big  indefiniteness  of  the  distant  Lawyer's 
performances  was  too  much  for  most  of  them,  and 
public  interest  circled  round  and  round  the  proposed 
sale  of  the  Thaggin  farm  till  that  came  to  be,  prac 
tically,  the  only  question  involved. 

And  so  it  happened  that  when  Melissa  took  a  stand 
against  Trav  Williams  in  his  suit  for  her  daughter, 
Trav  was  already  so  deeply  prejudiced  in  her  favor 
that  he  simply  refused  to  allow  himself  to  feel  hard 
toward  her,  and  heaped  the  blame  of  her  opposition 
on  the  head  of  a  scape-goat  he  was  only  too  glad  to 
load  with  it. 

Mary  Elizabeth  had  put  a  "spell"  on  Melissa,  he 
told  himself,  and  she  had  poisoned  Sue's  mind  against 
him.  Logically,  Mary  Elizabeth  would  have  to  be 
driven  out  of  the  neighborhood  before  his,  Trav's, 
affairs  could  assume  the  normal  again.  So,  Beck 
Logan  to  the  contrary  notwithstanding,  Mary  Eliz 
abeth  would  have  to  go.  Trav  told  Bud  Davis  of 
the  determination  at  which  he  had  arrived,  and  Bud 
agreed  heartily.  Then  they  reminded  each  other  that 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         285 

they  two  together  formed  two-thirds  of  the  school 
board  of  trustees,  and  that  they  could,  without  the 
consent  of  any  other,  expel  the  teacher  from  her  po 
sition  "for  cause."  They  told  each  other  that  they 
had  the  cause.  And  they  planned  together  to  call 
a  meeting  of  the  school  board  of  trustees  at  some 
time  when  the  storekeeper  would  be  unable  to  at 
tend,  and  demand  the  resignation  of  the  teacher  by 
the  first  of  the  next  month.  Then  Trav  told  Bud 
that  it  would  be  his,  Bud's,  place  to  see  that  the  girl 
be  not  allowed  to  remain  under  the  protection  of  her 
present  shelter  after  their  ultimatum  should  be  pro 
nounced.  She  must  be  "rooted  out,"  he  told  Bud, 
and  there  were  to  be  no  white  livers  shown  hi  the 
whole  affair.  Then  the  man  speaking  and  the  man 
listening  each  suddenly  bethought  him  of  a  certain 
gaunt,  stupid,  but  dangerously  quiet  man  who  might 
have  something  to  say  in  the  matter,  but  neither 
called  his  name. 

The  two  men  thought  themselves  quite  alone  when 
they  discussed  the  matter,  for  they  had  sought  the 
back  steps  of  Uncle  Beck's  store  on  which  to  hold 
conclave;  but  there  was  a  certain  pile  of  empty  boxes 
near  by,  and  behind  it  a  certain  boy  who  had  an  in 
herited  habit  of  slinking,  so  there  were  three,  and, 
in  the  long  run,  more  than  three,  who  knew  of  the 
compact. 

But  there  was  a  stage  in  the  conversation  in  which 
the  heads  of  the  two  men  were  brought  close  together 
and  the  boy  behind  the  boxes  could  not,  for  the  life  of 
him,  make  out  what  was  being  said.  The  name  of 


286        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Marshall  came  to  him  once,  distinctly,  and  his  ex 
cited  apprehension  helped  him  to  hear  it  many  times 
again;  but  what  they  were  saying  about  the  stranger 
that  would  demand  such  fierce  gesticulating,  his 
feeble  and  overtaxed  imagination  failed  to  supply. 

With  the  instinct  of  an  animal  to  obey  the  hand 
that  feeds  it,  Tony  Thaggin  went  straight  to  the 
stranger  with  what  he  could  remember  of  that  whis 
pered  dialogue;  and  what  he  could  remember  in 
cluded  all  that  had  been  planned  about  driving  the 
little  teacher  out  of  school  and  out  of  home.  He  re 
membered  all  that  because  he  loved  her  and  feared 
for  her. 

In  the  meantime,  Shan  Thaggin  was  using  every 
possible  means  to  counteract  Mary  Elizabeth's 
influence  on  his  daughter,  and,  inch  by  inch,  Sue's 
courage  gave  way  before  his  burning  abuse  and 
threatened  physical  cruelty,  till  one  day,  in  a  fit  of 
hysteria,  she  screamed  out  her  acquiescence,  and  the 
mother  was  left  standing  alone  in  her  opposition  to 
the  sacrifice  of  her  child. 

And  this  rout  of  Sue's  open  opposition  proved  seri 
ous  indeed  for  the  mother.  As  long  as  Sue  would 
say  that  she  would  not  marry  the  man,  there  was 
really  no  way  in  which  she  could  be  forced  by  her 
father  to  do  it;  but  Sue  had  turned  coward,  and, 
with  chattering  teeth,  had  promised  everything  that 
her  father  dictated,  while  in  secret  she  had  clung 
to  her  mother's  skirts,  declaring  that  she  would 
drown  herself  in  the  creek  below  the  falls  if  Melissa 
did  not  save  her. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         287 

Melissa  felt  the  force  of  Trav  Williams,  too.  Trav 
had  been  monarch  of  all  he  surveyed  for  so  long  that 
it  had  become  a  mental  habit  with  her  to  concede  to 
him;  and  now  that  his  terrible  will  power,  backed 
by  his  terrible  prestige,  was  deliberately  directed 
against  her,  she  found  her  position  almost  unten 
able. 

Of  course,  everybody  in  the  valley  knew  of  the 
Williams-Thaggin  complication,  and  discussed  it 
freely.  Backwoods  folk  hold  nothing  private  except 
the  schemes  of  one  against  the  other. 

Uncle  Beck  at  the  store  heard  it,  over  and  over 
again;  but  the  only  time  in  which  he  was  known  to 
open  his  mouth  on  the  subject  was  to  send  a  message 
to  Mary  Elizabeth  by  Babe  to  the  effect  that  if  she 
didn't  stop  attending  to  other  people's  business  for 
them  he  was  going  to  "whup"  her. 

But  Uncle  Beck's  threat  availed  naught  in  the  face 
of  her  growing  alarm  for  the  man  whose  safety  she 
had  jeopardized;  and,  for  the  time  being,  every  other 
heartache  and  every  other  apprehension  seemed 
swallowed  up  in  the  one  great  fear — she  might  fail 
to  save  him  from  their  hate!  Could  she  hope  to 
make  these  primitive  creatures  understand  that  in 
defeating  John  Marshall's  great  project — yes,  some 
how,  sometime,  it  had  become  "great"  to  her — they 
were  more  than  even  with  him — cruelly  more  than 
even? 

So  she  talked  to  Bud  and  to  Trav  and  to  all  the 
rest  about  him — for  him — because  she  had  conjured 
up  this  danger  that  was  menacing  him. 


288        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Why  didn't  he  go?  Was  he  going?  He  must, 
and  at  once.  Babe  had  promised  to  tell  him  his 
danger,  but  could  she  depend  on  the  effectiveness  of 
a  warning  from  poor  old  Babe? 

During  these  days  of  apprehension,  she  directed 
her  steps  to  and  from  school  always  along  the  path 
that  led  over  the  hill  by  the  haunted  house  and 
down  through  the  dark-green  twilight  of  the  pine 
forest;  she  lingered  on  the  way,  she  haunted  the 
wood  places  he  and  she  had  been  wont  to  frequent 
together,  but  no  glimpse  of  the  man  was  vouchsafed 
to  her. 

She  began  to  struggle  to  recall  his  every  familiar 
look  and  to  wonder  what  change  had  been  wrought 
in  each  by  this  terrible  catastrophe. 

How  was  he  surviving  his  mortification — his  de 
spair?  How  was  he  bearing  what  she,  Mary  Eliza 
beth,  had  brought  down  upon  him — this  man  who 
was  never  so  intensely  awake  as  when  he  was 
dreaming  his  big  dream?  How  was  he  faring,  now 
that  his  dream  was  shattered?  And  where,  oh  God! 
where  was  the  peace  that  this  triumph  was  to  have 
brought? 

It  was  in  search  of  the  answer  to  her  vain  question 
ing  that  Mary  Elizabeth  took  her  way  one  Saturday 
morning,  one  cruelly  bright  Saturday  morning,  to 
the  man  whose  dream  she  had  broken.  She  did  not 
allow  herself  to  think  of  Uncle  Beck  and  his  orders. 
She  only  knew  that  she  must  see  John  Marshall 
again.  Even  his  bitter  reproaches — or  perhaps,  his 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         289 

erable  not  knowing.  She  must  see  him  once  more, 
and  then  she  must  make  him  go. 

The  warm  sunshine  poured  down  on  her  head  as  if 
in  blessing,  but  she  did  not  feel  its  beneficent  touch, 
nor  respond  to  its  bright  reflection  from  the  yellow 
dust  under  her  feet.  A  mocking-bird  was  singing 
its  heart  out  in  the  awakening  forest,  but  she  did 
not  hear. 

She  was  going  to  the  haunted  house  to  tell  John 
Marshall — she  was  going  to  tell  him — what?  She 
had  a  feeling — a  half -remembrance — that  she  ought 
not  to  go  the  man's  place  of  habitation,  but  that 
seemed  to  her  now  the  only  sure  way  of  seeing  him, 
and  see  him  she  must. 

But  she  did  not  get  to  the  haunted  house,  for  the 
reason  that  she  met  John  Marshall  face  to  face  at 
the  bend  of  the  road  just  before  she  reached  the 
summit. 

He  was  coming  down  the  road  at  a  swinging 
gait,  and  stopped  short  to  keep  from  running  over 
her,  looming  big  and  strong  and  aggressive  before 
her,  with  the  look  of  virile  health  written  all  over 
him. 

No,  he  did  not  look  crushed.  He  looked  only  a 
good  deal  surprised,  and  vividly,  warmly  awake  to 
whatever  it  was  that  she  had  to  say  to  him  as  she 
deliberately  stopped  him  on  his  way.  There  was  no 
"cold,  unspeaking  scorn"  in  the  alert,  intense — and 
was  it  alarmed? — gaze  with  which  he  regarded  her; 
and  the  lips  from  which  she  had  feared  the  bitterest 
reproaches,  parted  in  a  kind 


290        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"  Good-morning." 

"I  was  coming  to  see  you,"  said  the  girl,  uncon 
scious  that  she  had  paled  at  his  sudden  appearance. 

"  You  were  I    Why,  what's  happened?  " 

Was  he  scared?  She  would  scarcely  have  thought 
it  of  him.  But  his  face  had  become  instantly  grave, 
his  eyes  apprehensive.  He  was  watching  every 
change  in  her  face  with  an  intensity  that  was 
disturbing.  And  then — 

"Has  anybody  troubled  you?"  he  surprised  her 
with. 

"Why,  no,  there's  nothing  to  trouble  me,  particu 
larly;  I  wasn't  thinking  of  myself." 

"Oh,"  and  his  face  changed  again.  This  time  he 
looked  unaccountably  relieved,  and  his  relief,  like 
his  previous  alarm,  seemed  out  of  all  proportion  to 
the  circumstances  which  had  called  it  forth.  Mary 
Elizabeth  was  bewildered. 

"Can't  we  go  down  to  the  spring?"  she  at  length 
asked,  glancing  down  a  sheltered  by-path  that 
seemed  to  promise  seclusion.  "We  can  get  a  seat 
on  the  rocks  there.  I  have  something  to  say  to 
you." 

Marshall's  glance  followed  her  own,  but  he  said 
promptly:  "It's  better  here  in  the  sunshine.  Shel 
tered  nooks  are  not  very  wholesome  in  the  winter. 
Hold  on,  and  I'll  get  some  pine  straw  and  we  can  sit 
right  here  by  the  roadside  where  it's  warm  and 
sunny." 

As  it  used  to  be  in  the  first  days  of  their  friendship, 
he  made  his  way  hers;  and  Mary  Elizabeth,  with  her 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         291 

heart  now  in  her  throat,  watched  him  in  silence  as  he 
worked.  In  a  short  time  she  was  enthroned  on  a  soft 
brown  cushion  where  she  could  lean  back  comfortably 
against  a  giant  tree-trunk  and  run  her  restless  little 
hands  constantly  over  the  carpet  of  brown  needles 
that  was  spread  around. 

Marshall  disposed  himself  on  a  flat  lime  rock  at  her 
feet.  He  could  not  take  his  eyes  off  her. 

If  there  is  any  one  instinct  in  women  that  is  abso 
lutely  unfailing,  it  is  the  instinct  to  appear  as  attrac 
tive  as  possible  to  the  men  they  are  trying  to  break 
of  loving  them !  Mary  Elizabeth  had  assured  herself 
that  she  would  not  marry  this  man  for  anything  in 
the  world — that  she  wanted  him  to  forget  her.  But, 
she  had  deliberately  donned  for  this  interview  the 
very  dress  that  he  liked  best.  It  was  a  slim, 
inexpensive  affair,  but  it  exactly  matched  the  color 
of  her  eyes;  and  when  she  slipped  down  on  the  dark 
pine  straw  and  rested  her  head  against  the  yet  richer 
brown  of  the  great  trunk,  she  looked  as  if  she  had 
been  painted  into  the  landscape  by  an  artist  who 
loved  his  theme. 

"You  wanted  to  tell  me — ?"  suggested  the  man, 
and  his  breath  came  deep  and  quick. 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you,"  said  the  girl,  finding  it 
hard  to  begin,  "I  wanted  to  tell  you  first  that  I  am 
sorry " 

A  dismaying  change  swept  over  his  face,  and 
she  hastened  to  explain — "No,  no,  not  that!  I'm 
sorry  that  I  had  to  do  it,  not  sorry  that  I  did  it." 

The  warm,  melting  flush  that  had  spread  over  the 


292         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

man's  face  receded  instantly,  leaving  the  eyes  and 
mouth  hard.  He  looked  away  from  her,  and  she 
saw  by  a  certain  grim  set  of  his  side  face  that  this 
was  to  be  her  reply.  Mary  Elizabeth  could  not  let 
it  go  at  this. 

"But,  but,"  she  continued,  uncertain  of  her 
ground,  "I  am  sorry  for  what  I  said  to  you  when 
you  told  me  about  that  old  house  up  there.  I  think 
I  knew  even  then  that  you  were  not  dealing  dishon 
estly  with  me.  It  was  my  temper  that  got  the  best 
of  me." 

She  waited  a  moment  in  a  silence  that  he  made 
no  move  to  break,  and  then  added:  "Of  course, 
I  know  that  you  blame  me  for " 

He  turned  to  her  suddenly,  slightly  pale,  but  with 
himself  well  in  hand. 

"No,  I  don't  blame  you,"  he  said  quietly.  "You 
have  been  mistaken  from  first  to  last,  but  I  suppose 
it's  your  training  that  is  to  blame.  You  thought 
that  I  was  all  bad  and  these  people  here  all  good — 
that  I  was  all  wrong,  and  they  all  right.  You 
thought  that  the  clash  between  their  interests  and 
mine  was  a  clash  between  sordid  commercialism  and 
exalted  idealism,  when  it  was  only  the  world-old 
cutthroat  strife  for  mastery  between  man  and  man, 
with  pretty  much  the  same  sort  of  men  on  both 
sides.  You  had  the  version  of  the  histories  and  the 
other  story-books — you  didn't  know  how  mixed  are 
the  good  and  the  bad,  the  honest  and — well — the 
unhonest  in  the  best  of  us." 

The  girl  shrank  visibly,  as  if  the  cynicism  of  his 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         293 

words  and  tone  had  dealt  a  personal  hurt  to  her 
self. 

"But,"  she  protested,  "there  is,  there  must  be  un 
alloyed  good  somewhere.  Haven't  you  ever  found 
it?" 

He  looked  deep  into  her  eyes  for  a  moment  and 
then  answered,  slowly: 

"Only  in  your  heart." 

"Dvtti" 

"I  answered  your  question."  The  man  passed 
his  hand  across  his  forehead,  and  his  fingers  shaded 
slightly  the  fire  that  was  burning  in  his  eyes. 

There  was  a  longer  period  of  silence  between  them 
this  time,  and  then  the  girl  began,  with  the  air  of  one 
summoning  courage  for  an  ordeal: 

"Don't  make  it  hard  for  me  to  say  what  I  really 
came  to  say." 

"Why,  forgive  me.    What  is  it?"  he  asked. 

"I  wanted  to  tell  you,"  she  began  again,  "that  in 
the  long,  sleepless  nights  that  I  have  passed  since  I 
ruined  your  project,  I — I  have  somehow  come  to  feel 
that,  after  all,  maybe  it  was  not  just  the  money 
in  it  that  mattered  to  you — that  maybe — your  big 
dream  was  a  vital  part  of  yourself,  and  I  had  hurt 
you  through  it — more  than  I  could  know " 

She  stopped  with  the  sentence  unfinished,  for 
the  man  had  turned  quickly  away  so  that  she  could 
no  longer  see  a  line  of  his  face.  He  was  playing 
with  the  pine  straw,  now,  brushing  it  to  and  fro 
with  a  stick  he  had  picked  up.  He  did  not  answer. 

After  a  little  the  girl  continued: 


294        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"And  last  night  it  came  to  me  that  now  these  peo 
ple  would  love  me  and  trust  me  for  what  I  had  done 
for  them,  and  that  I  could,  as  time  went  on,  make 
them  love  me  more  and  more — if  I  threw  my  whole 
self  into  doing  for  them — and  that  maybe,  after  a 
while,  I  could  get  them  to  join  you  in  doing  what 
you  had  dreamed  of  so  long,  and  nobody's  life  tenets 
would  be  violated.  You  see  if  I  stay  here  and  try 
very,  very  hard- 
Marshall  turned  abruptly  to  her.  He  had  snapped 
the  idle  stick  in  two  and  flung  its  fragments  from  him. 
The  lines  that  were  now  fast  melting  from  his  face 
might  very  recently  have  meant  heartache  with 
bitterness  in  it,  but  there  was  not  a  vestige  of  the 
feeling  in  his  voice  as  he  interrupted  her: 

"For  God's  sake,  put  that  out  of  your  mind! 
That  is  the  very  last  thing  in  the  world  I'd  let  you  do. 
I'm  licked,  but  I'm  not  whining,  and  I  sleep  like  a 
Christian.  And  as  for  your  throwing  yourself  into 

the  breach  and " 

"Yes,  butlcould- 

"Yes,  but  you  couldn't,  and  you  shall  not!  Un 
derstand  me  once  for  all — I  don't  mean  to  be  harsh 
with  you — but  I'm  not  going  to  allow  you  to  even 
attempt  such  a  thing.  You  must  believe  me." 

Mary  Elizabeth  started  to  interrupt,  but  he 
stopped  her  almost  peremptorily  with:  "See  here, 
I  know  this  situation  a  thousand  times  better  than 
you  do,  and  I  know  that  these  wretches  haven't  a 
particle  of  gratitude  toward  you.  They  never  have 
loved  you,  and  they  never  will;  and  they  have 


295 

distrusted  you  from  first  to  last.  The  longer  you 
stay  here,  the  more  they  will  hate  you.  The  fact  of 
the  business  is,  you've  got  to  leave  here,  and  you're 
going  before  the  first  of  next  month." 

"Who  says  so?" 

"I  say  so,"  commandingly — and  then  with  infinite 
pleading  as  the  girl's  spirit  rose — "Mary  Elizabeth, 
if  you  knew  that  you  had  hurt  me  vitally — hurt  me 
beyond  redeeming — wouldn't  you  do  this  one  thing 
that  I  asked  of  you?" 

"And  have  I  hurt  you — so  much?" 

Only  the  sudden  tightening  of  the  lines  about  his 
mouth  answered  her,  but  it  was  enough. 

"I  can't  bear  it,"  she  sobbed,  dropping  her  face 
into  her  hands. 

"Oh,  don't,  please  don't,"  he  pleaded;  "I  never 
meant  to  let  you  know.  I — I  only  saw  a  weapon 
that  might  make  you  go,  and  I  was  coward  enough 
to  use  it.  Little  girl,  if  the  ruin  of  my  hopes  here 
could  eventuate  in  taking  you  out  of  what  surrounds 
you,  I  would  have  nothing  to  regret.  Won't  you  go? 
Won't  you  go?" 

"I  can't,"  she  said;  "don't  you  see  that  I  can't?" 
She  had  stopped  crying  now,  and  he  compelled  her 
eyes  to  his  own  as  he  insisted: 

"  But  why  can't  you?  It's  imperative,  I  tell  you — 
you  must." 

"But  I  promised  my  guardian  to  stay  here  and 
teach  so  that  these  children  that  are  growing  up 
could  be  lifted  out  of  their  ignorance.  No,  listen  to 
me — he  said  if  that  were  to  be  done  for  one  genera- 


296        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

tion  by  a  person  who  was  really  fitted  for  and  con 
secrated  to  the  work,  that  that  would  be  doing  it 
for  all  the  generations  that  would  come  after." 

"But  why  couldn't  the  work  be  done  by  somebody 
else?  "  he  demanded. 

"Because,"  answered  the  girl,  maintaining  herself 
against  his  aggressiveness,  "because  well-equipped 
teachers  won't  come  to  these  districts.  If  I  were  to 
give  up  the  school  here,  there  would  be  elected  to  it 
some  poorly  equipped  native  teacher  who  would  only 
condemn  them  to  continuing  ignorance.  And  I 
promised  to  stay.  Don't  you  see  how  it  is?" 

"Yes,  but — "  John  Marshall  closed  his  lips  on  the 
sudden  temptation  to  tell  her  that  the  school  was 
shortly  to  be  taken  from  her.  If  he  should  tell  her 
that,  he  would  have  to  tell  her  why,  and  he  believed 
that  she  could  not  bear  it.  His  glance  fell  appre 
hensively  on  her  slight,  frail  form;  he  noted  the  trans 
parency  of  her  perfect  skin  and  the  shadows  under 
her  violet  eyes,  and  he  somehow  got  the  notion  that 
the  spirit  of  the  girl  was  frail  and  flowerlike  too,  for 
all  her  store  of  passionate  temper,  and  that  a  breath 
too  rude  would  snap  it. 

Tell  that  story  to  her?  And  he  of  all  persons  tell  it? 
It  was  out  of  all  nature — it  couldn't  be  done.  He 
closed  his  lips,  and  told  himself  again  that  some  other 
way  would  be  opened,  changing  his  answer  to — 

"Yes,  but  faith  to  a  rash  promise  is  madness." 

The  girl  was  ready  for  him : 

"There  are  times  when  it  may  look  like  madness, 
but  it  is  always  faith ,"  she  said.  "Besides,  in  this 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         297 

case  it  most  certainly  is  not  madness.  Just  as  he 
said,  I  can't  hope  to  do  much  for  those  that  are 
grown,  but  the  children  are  in  my  hands.  I  can  do 
everything  for  them." 

Marshall  did  not  reply,  and  after  a  pause  that 
had  gradually  grown  awkward,  the  girl  ventured: 

"I  have  been  so  puzzled,  so  astounded  by  some 
thing,  and  I  can't  for  the  life  of  me  make  out  a  reason 
for  it.  You  came  to  me  deliberately  and  gave  me 
permission  to  tell  your  secret  broadcast  while  the 
consummation  of  your  scheme  yet  hung  in  the 
balance.  You,  yourself,  put  it  into  my  hands  to 
ruin  you,  when  you  knew  that  you  could  keep  me 
silent  as  long  as  you — as  long  as  you  were  willing 
to  do  it.  I  can't  make  it  out." 

She  waited  a  little,  but  Marshall  did  not  seem 
disposed  to  help  her  over  the  difficulty.  He  was 
looking  beyond  her  now,  and  a  strange  little  feeling 
of  fear  at  the  idea  of  how  deep  the  depths  of  him 
might  be,  came  over  her.  But  she  ventured  on, 
fascinated: 

"Why  did  you  do  it?"  bringing  his  eyes  back  to 
her  own  by  the  power  of  her  gaze;  "why  did  you 
do  it?" 

"Because  I  love  you!" — he  blazed  out,  seizing  her 
slender  wrist  and  tightening  his  fingers  about  it  till 
the  girl  cried  out  in  pain.  The  next  moment  he  had 
released  her  and  was  saying  contritely: 

"Forgive  me!" 

The  girl  rose  quickly  to  her  feet,  and  he  followed 
her  as  quickly. 


298        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"I — I  am  sorry  I  let  myself  go  like  that,  because  I 
so  wanted  to  influence  you.  Please  don't  go  yet," 
he  pleaded.  "I  so  wanted  to  influence  you  against 
trying  to  stay  here — to  get  you  to  go  now — I  can  get 
you  a  place  where  you  will  be  independent  and  still 
be  with  the  right  sort  of  people" — he  was  promising 
wildly,  and  he  knew  it.  "You  won't  be  under  any 
obligation  to  me  at  all,  and  I  won't  force  myself  on 
you  against  your  will  anywhere  you  may  go.  If 
you'll  only  go,  and  go  now — 

"But  you  know  that  I  can't  go  ;"  the  girl  was 
looking  impatiently  down  the  way  that  he  had 
blocked  to  detain  her. 

"Then  when  you  do  go,"  and  a  look  of  pain  came 
into  his  eyes  as  he  said  it — "won't  you  promise  me 
that  when  you  do  go,  you  will  let  me  help  you  get  a 
situation  somewhere  else?  Promise  me  that  if  you 
decide  to  go  you  will  send  me  word — that  you'll  call 
on  me  as  on  a  friend  to  help  you.  Mary  Elizabeth, 
won't  you  do  this  for  me?" 

The  girl  was  troubled  and  bewildered. 

"After  all  that  has  passed  between  us,"  she  said, 
"and  knowing  as  you  do  how  I  feel  toward  you,  I 
don't  see  how  you  could  expect  it — and  I  don't  see 
why  you  should  care  whether  I  go  or  stay.  I 
don't  see  why  you  should  care,  after  I  have — after 
I  have " 

"After  you  have  put  yourself  beyond  my  reach? 
And  is  that  your  conception  of  love?  I  had  thought 
it  out  to  a  different  conclusion;  and  I  have  a  fancy 
that  not  in  the  near  future  only,  but  through  all  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        299 

years  to  come,  I  shall  care  whether  you  go  or  stay. 
Darling! " 

But  the  girl  stopped  him  with  a  quick 

"Don't!"  and  then:  "I  came  here  to-day  to  beg 
you  to  leave — to  beg  you  to  leave  for  my  sake  and 
for  your  own." 

"Why  for  your  sake?" 

"I — I  am  wretched  for  fear  that  what  I  have  done 
may  bring  about  more  serious  trouble  for  you.  They 
might — they  might — "  A  sudden  pallor  said  the 
rest. 

"Well,  it  wouldn't  so  much  matter,  now.  But 
don't  carry  me  on  your  conscience,  child,  if  they  do — 
Oh,  I — why,  don't  take  it  that  way!  I  was  only 
talking  idly.  There  is  not  the  slightest  danger  to 
me  in  the  world.  Believe  me,  there  isn't." 

"WW/ you  go?" 

"On  one  condition,"  he  answered. 

"And  that  is ?" 

"That  you  go  with  me.  No,  wait,  you  must  hear 
me  out  this  time.  I  love  you — God,  how  I  love 
you!  Only  come  with  me,  girl,  and  I'll  go  all  the 
way  to — anywhere !  Nothing  on  earth  matters  but 
you.  Nothing  mattered  but  you  when  the  test 
came" — then  correcting,  quickly,  "I  mean  would 
matter  if  the  test  should  come.  Don't  go,  don't. 
Listen  to  me :  I  hold  titles  to  every  foot  of  land  in 
this  valley  now  except  Shan  Thaggin's  farm.  The 
land  is  mine  to  do  what  I  will  with.  I  will  give  to 
every  soul  here  the  land  that  he  thought  he  owned 
and  didn't,  if  you  will  be  my  wife." 


300        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  girl  recoiled  from  him  with  a  face  that  was  now 
deadly  pale. 

"The  man  I  go  with,"  she  answered,  "will  do  what 
is  right  because  it  is  right,  and  not  for  any  lesser 
reason!" 


CHAPTER  XXII 

BABE  DAVIS  sat  on  an  old  rail  fence  and  looked 
across  the  valley.  The  mists  were  breaking  away 
now  and  were  trailing  their  tattered  skirts  carelessly 
across  the  tree-tops,  but  here  and  there  a  thin  gray 
shred  of  filmy  vesture  rested  over  some  sheltered 
nook  like  a  carelessly  flung  cobweb.  Now  and  again 
the  early  morning  sunlight  struggled  through.  The 
air  was  warm  and  cold  in  streaks,  and  the  face  of 
the  brown  hills  showed  only  half-hearted  efforts  to 
turn  green  again.  It  was  a  misty,  uncertain  morn 
ing,  gray  for  the  most  part,  but  with  here  and  there 
a  lance  of  sunshine,  and  here  and  there  a  promise  of 
unfolding. 

Babe  Davis  sat  on  the  old  rail  fence  and  looked 
across  the  valley.  The  mists  of  uncertainty  and 
unknowing  were  trailing  across  the  unawakened 
mind  of  the  man,  but  here  and  there  the  light  was 
struggling  through.  Babe  was  thinking. 

He  was  perched  upon  the  topmost  rail  with  his 
long,  thin  legs  drawn  up  till  his  knees  afforded  a  con 
venient  resting-place  for  his  elbows.  His  huge,  bony 
shoulders  were  hooped  over,  and  his  scraggy  neck 
was  thrust  forward.  His  lower  jaw  had  dropped 
slightly,  leaving  the  protruding  teeth  unprotected. 
The  great,  ox-like  eyes  were  pained  now,  with  the 
unwonted  travail  of  thinking. 

301 


302         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

What  to  do?  What  to  do?  The  mists  were  trail 
ing  low.  He  would  go  to  his  brother  and  tell  him 
— no — yes — he  would  go  to  his  brother  and  tell  him 
that  Welchel  Dale  was  not  the  man  who  had  in 
formed  on  him,  and  that  he  therefore  had  no  right 
to  be  enemies  with  Mary  Elizabeth.  And  then  Bud 
would — no,  Bud  wouldn't,  either — and  the  land 
scape  clouded  again.  Bud  wouldn't  believe,  because 
— he  wouldn't  want  to.  No,  Bud  wanted  to  believe 
that  Welchel  Dale  had  informed  on  him.  He  had 
probably  wanted  to,  even  before  that  awful  night. 
Bud  would  be  mad  to  hear  that  Welchel  hadn't 
sinned  against  him.  Besides,  he  wouldn't  believe 
it.  You  see,  there  was  no  proof  at  all  to  offer  him. 
— The  air  was  coming  in  chilly  streaks  now.  If  he 
told  Bud  that  John  Marshall  said  so,  it  would  just 
connect  Marshall  and  Mary  Elizabeth  still  more 
strongly  in  Bud's  mind.  Bud  would  think  some 
thing  mean  and  low  because  Marshall  knew  about 
Mary  Elizabeth's  father.  And — and — yes,  Bud 
would  get  the  notion  that  Mary  Elizabeth  somehow 
knew  about  that  terrible  night — and,  God! — how 
he  would  hate  her!  And  Bud  would — yes,  he  would 
— he  would  only  hate  the  stranger  the  more  for 
seeming  to  know  more  than  he  had  any  business 
to  about  things  that  everybody  wanted  forgotten. 
And  if  Bud  thought  that  John  Marshall  knew  about 
the  fate  of  Welchel  Dale,  what  dog's  chance  would 
there  be  for  the  fellow?  It  was  bad  enough  now, 
even  though  that  devilish  scheme  of  Marshall's  had 
been  brought  to  nothing.  It  wasn't  fair  to  let  a 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         303 

fellow  like  that  be  shot  down — a  fellow  who  was 
deliberately  facing  just  that  for  Mary  Elizabeth. 
No  matter  what  he  had  tried  to  do,  he  hadn't  suc 
ceeded,  and  he  was  standing  up  to  Mary  Elizabeth 
like  a  man!  No,  it  would  never  do  to  tell  Bud. 
Better  let  it  all  drop,  now  that  Marshall  had  been 
stopped  in  his  deviltry.  But 

Had  Marshall  been  stopped  ? 

Melissa  Thaggin  had  refused  to  sign  the  papers 
that  would  give  the  man  the  right  to  open  the  flood 
gates  on  them.  But  could  Melissa  stand  out  in  face 
of  the  odds  against  her?  Did  any  woman  in  all 
the  world — even  beyond  the  ridge — ever  stand  out 
against  her  rightful  master?  Women  were  mostly 
good,  yes,  Melissa  was  very  good.  But  who  ever 
heard  of  depending  on  a  woman  to  keep  on  siding 
against  her  husband?  It  needed  no  shaft  of  light 
to  show  Babe  that  Shan  Thaggin  was  only  pretend 
ing  to  be  supporting  his  neighbors  against  the 
stranger.  Babe's  very  instinct  had  told  him  from 
the  first  where  Shan's  inclination  lay.  It  was  Melissa 
who  barred  John  Marshall's  way. 

By  gad,  something  would  have  to  be  done  to 
change  Shan  before  their  homes  would  be  safe!  But 
what? 

The  light  at  last!  He  would  go  to  Thaggin  with 
what  he  had  learned.  Yes,  he  would  tower  over 
that  miserable  cur  of  an  informer  and  dare  him,  by 
the  memory  of  Welchel  Dale's  fate,  to  have  one 
other  thing  to  do  with  John  Marshall.  Shan  Thag 
gin  was  the  biggest  coward  that  ever  was  born  into 


304        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

the  world.  All  he,  Babe,  would  have  to  do  would 
be  to  tell  Shan,  up  and  down  to  his  own  face,  that  he 
knew  him  to  be  the  man  who  had  informed  on  Bud 
and  Trav,  and  that  if  he  ever  dared  to  let  John  Mar 
shall  have  one  foot  of  his  land,  Trav  and  Bud  should 
know  the  whole  truth.  That  would  fix  it.  Shan 
wouldn't  dare  to  budge  with  that  hanging  over 
him! 

Babe  Davis  was  slow  to  come  to  conclusions,  but 
prompt  to  act  when  he  had  at  last  made  up  his 
mind. 

The  flea-bit  mule  was  untethered  from  the  fence 
by  which  he  grazed,  and  shortly  thereafter  Babe 
drew  rein  at  the  cross-roads  store,  and  inquired  for 
Shan  Thaggin.  Shan  was  not  there.  Indeed,  the 
old  storekeeper  reported,  Shan  had  not  herded  with 
his  neighbors  much  of  late — he  would  probably  be 
found  at  home  under  Melissa's  protection. 

Shan  was  found  at  home,  and  when  Babe  called 
him  to  the  gate,  Melissa  followed  anxiously  in  his 
wake. 

This  would  never  do.  It  was  not  to  say  kind-like 
to  let  Melissa  know  how  low  was  the  man  she  had 
married.  He  must  have  it  out  with  Shan  alone. 

Babe  was  not  good  at  strategy,  but  after  the 
profuse  howdys  were  over  he  made  out  to  say,  stum- 
blingly: 

"Shan,  I — I — 'lowed  I'd  come  over  an'  git  a  little 
o*  that  seed  corn  o'  yourn,  y'all  seem  to  have  sich 
good  luck  with  your  corn — I  got  sump'n  to  tell  you, 
private-like."  He  added  the  last  in  what  he  in- 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        305 

tended  for  a  whisper,  but  Melissa's  sharp  ears  caught 
what  he  said. 

Melissa  was  a  good,  honest  soul,  but  the  word 
"honorable"  had  never  yet  found  a  place  in  her 
vocabulary.  Besides,  she  had  had  to  live  with  Shan 
Thaggin. 

"Babe,"  she  said,  as  innocently  as  if  she  had  never 
heard  a  word  in  all  her  life,  "Babe,  light  an'  hitch  an' 
come  in  to  the  fire.  Hit's  a  tur'ble  chilly  mornin'. 
Come  in  an'  set  a  spell  with  Shan,  while  I  take  a  turn 
in  the  kitchen." 

This  seemed  an  opportunity,  and  Babe  gladly  ac 
cepted  her  invitation.  In  a  few  minutes  the  two 
men  were  seated  comfortably  before  the  fire  with  a 
bag  of  seed  corn  between  them. 

Melissa  went  out  and  closed  the  door  noisily  be 
hind  her,  and  her  heavy  steps  were  unusually  heavy 
as  she  made  her  way  to  the  kitchen,  which  was  at 
the  back  and  on  the  other  side  of  the  house.  No 
sooner  did  she  arrive  in  the  kitchen,  however,  than 
her  steps  suddenly  became  as  light  as  a  cat's,  and 
she  turned  in  her  tracks  and  made  her  way  into  the 
shed  back  of  the  apartment  in  which  the  two  men 
were  seated.  It  was  the  room  in  which  the  children 
had  slept  when  the  settin'-up  was  held,  and  it  com 
municated  with  the  one  in  front.  Melissa  quickly 
laid  her  ear  to  the  crack  of  the  door  which  sep 
arated  her  from  her  husband  and  his  guest. 

"Shan  Thaggin,"  she  heard  Babe  say,  and  the 
use  of  her  husband's  last  name,  together  with  an 
abrupt  scraping  of  the  floor  as  if  a  chair  had  been 


306        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

shoved  back,  sent  her  heart  pounding  within  her 
breast — "Shan  Thaggin,  I'm  sorry  I  couldn't  a- 
spoke  to  you  on  the  outside,  like  I  'lowed  to  do." 

"What  you  mean,  Babe,  what  you  doin'  that 
a- way  for?" 

Melissa  could  not  see  through  the  crack,  but  she 
knew  by  her  husband's  whining  tone  how  he  was 
shrinking  up  before  what  she  heard  in  the  other 
man's  voice,  and  her  cheeks  flamed. 

"To  be  a-skeered  o'  Babe  Davis!"  she  exclaimed 
to  herself,  bitterly,  and  her  fat  hands  were  clinched 
tight  as  she  listened  again. 

"I  'lowed  to  have  hit  out  on  the  outside,  b'cause 
what  I've  got  to  say  to  you  is  sump'n  you  don't 
want  to  hear." 

"What  ?"  her  husband's  voice  replied,  waveringly. 
There  was  a  silence  that  was  terrible  to  the  listening 
wife;  and  then,  more  terrible  still,  came: 

"  You,  Shan  Thaggin,  air  the  man  what  informed 
on  Bud  an'  Trav  'bout  that  thar  still — an'  you  let 
'em  hang  Welchel  Dale  by  the  neck  tell  he  was  dead 
for  hit.  You  air  a  murderer,  an'  worse — you  air  a 
informer!"  Melissa's  pounding  heart  stood  still. 

"I  nurver — neither — I — I — "  came  in  a  faint  echo 
of  what  was  once  her  husband's  voice. 

"Don't  you  lie  to  me!  Don't  you  lie  to  me,  Shan 
Thaggin;  I  tell  you  I  know  /" 

The  wife's  heart  sent  up  a  voiceless  prayer  that, 
the  next  moment,  seemed  to  be  hurled  back  upon  her 
in  mockery. 

"Ba — a — be,  do — Trav  know?    Do  Bud  know?" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         307 

Melissa  slipped  to  the  floor — It  was  true  I 

The  weight  of  her  heavy  body  against  the  door 
at  which  she  had  been  listening  burst  it  open,  and 
the  mother  of  Shan  Thaggin's  children  lay,  sobbing, 
across  the  threshold. 

The  two  men — the  one  standing,  the  other  cower 
ing  in  a  homespun-covered  barrel  chair — were  struck 
dumb.  Babe  Davis,  who  had  been  standing  very 
tall,  suddenly  laid  hold  of  the  mantel-shelf,  and  the 
fierce,  protruding  eyes  grew  dim.  The  mists  were 
settling  down  again. 

Babe  Davis  had  seen  men  fight  like  beasts,  and 
suffer  like  them.  He  had  known  tragedy  in  her 
wildest,  most  primitive  undisguise.  He  had  seen 
all  this — and  yet  had  kept  his  grip.  But  the  sight 
of  a  woman,  sobbing,  was  too  much  for  his  hardi 
hood.  And  that  woman  Melissa!  Melissa,  who  had 
in  the  old  days  always  been  friendly  when  other 
girls  laughed  at  him  and  ran  away!  He,  Babe,  had 
told  Melissa  that  Shan  was  an  informer — Shan,  the 
man  she  had  lived  with  all  these  years  as  wife! 

Babe  Davis  tried  to  speak.  He  tried  to  say  some 
thing,  but  he  forgot  what  it  was.  Besides,  his 
throat  was  dry  and  throbbing.  He  had  a  miserable 
feeling  that  he  had  not  said  what  he  had  come  to 
say,  but  he  couldn't  remember  now  what  it  was. 
So  he  ended  by  drawing  his  coat-sleeve  across  his 
mist-dimmed  eyes,  and  stumbling  out  of  the  house 
with  the  feeling  that  he  had  blundered  fearfully. 

Inside  the  room  he  had  quitted,  the  clock  on  the 
little  mantel-shelf  ticked  its  very  loudest  as  if  to 
make  up  for  the  dead  silence  which  reigned  between 


308        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

the  semblance  of  a  man  that  crouched  beneath  it  and 
the  woman  who  lay  prone  on  the  floor  with  her  eyes 
covered  as  against  the  thing  she  was  brought  to  face. 
One,  two,  three  minutes  were  ticked  off  with  a  fate 
ful  evenness  of  stroke,  and  then  the  cowering  figure 
in  the  homespun-covered  chair  cowered  closer  still, 
for  the  woman  was  struggling  slowly  to  her  feet,  she 
was  approaching  to  confront  him! 

"Well!"  was  all  she  said  to  him. 

"Melissa,  Me-lis-sa,"  he  chattered,  looking  every 
where  but  into  her  eyes,  "Melissa,  I — I — 'clar  'fore 
God  I  never  got  no  money  for  hit — I — I — leastways 
that  deputy  nurver  give  me  nothin'  like  'twas  wuth 
— I — I — "  His  teeth  chattered  away  after  his  voice 
had  ceased.  The  woman  stood  looking  him  through. 

"An'  you  let  'em  hang  Welchel  Dale  for  hit!" 

"Why — why — why,  Melissa,  wouldn't  you  druther 
they'd  a-hung  Dale  than  me?  Would  you  a-had  me 
die  for  a  man  what  was  most  a  rank  stranger  to  you, 
an'  me  your  own  husband,  too!" 

"  Shut  up  t" 

The  cringing  wretch  dodged  and  whimpered,  but 
after  a  few  moments  burst  out: 

"Melissa,  Melissa,  air  you  goin'  to  let  'em  hang 
me,  too?"  He  was  clutching  her  skirts  now,  in  a 
wild  fear. 

The  wife's  face  grew  white  as  his  own.  The 
instinct  of  the  woman  of  the  hills  is  to  go  all  the 
lengths  for  the  man  to  whom  she  is  mated.  She 
knows  no  other  law. 

"In  the  name  o'  God,"  she  cried  out  in  her  agony, 
"how  kin  I  he'p  hit,  now!" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        309 

"Oh,  Melissa,  ef  you'll  jes  make  Sue  marry  Trav, 
hit' 11  be  all  right.  Trav'll  let  me  alone  then,  an' 
what  Trav  does,  Bud  Davis  does,  too.  Melissa, 
please,  please — for  God's  sake,  Melissa — you  don't 
want  po'  me  hung,  do  you — please — "  His  teeth 
went  chattering  the  rest. 

With  a  face  of  chalk,  but  with  eyes  on  fire  the 
woman  looked  him  over. 

"Shan  Thaggin,"  she  said,  and  her  voice  shook, 
"Shan  Thaggin,  before  Sue  should  marry  a  man  that 
was  low  down  and  mean,  I'd  take  her  down  yonder 
to  the  creek  an'  drown  her  with  my  own  two  hands. 
Do  you  hear  that?  I  know  what  hit  is — God  he'p 
me,  I  know  what  hit  is  to  bear  childern  to  a  coward 
an'  a  liar  an'  a  brute,  but  Sue  sha'n't,  Sue  sha'n't, 
Sue  sha'n't."  The  woman  was  striking  her  hands 
together  till  they  hurt 

The  husband  shivered  afresh  at  every  stroke  of  her 
hands  together;  he  made  as  though  to  grasp  her 
skirts  again  in  his  frenzy,  but  the  woman  warned 
him  off  with  a  fierce  gesture. 

"Melissa!  They'll  be  down  on  me  to-night  with 
the  dark — he'p  me!"  he  cried. 

In  spite  of  her  contempt  of  him,  his  appeal  struck 
her  through  again,  for  the  instinct  of  the  woman  of 
the  hills  was  hers. 

"Ef — ef — "  she  faltered,  "ef  you  could  take  to  the 
woods " 

"They'd  run  me  down,  they'd  run  me  down!"  he 
wailed. 

"Couldn't  you  git  a  good  start  of  'em,  I'd  like 
to  know!"  she  flamed, 


310        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"But  I'm  afeard  o'  the  woods,  Melissa — Welchel 
— Da-da-le — the  night  I  went  to  Silas's — oh,  I'm 
afeard  o'  the  woods!" 

"You're  afeard  o'  Welchel  Dale,  an'  with  good 
cause.  God  knows,  I'd  ha'nt  you  too!" 

"Melissa,  ef,  ef  I  might  hide  somewhar — ef  you 
could  let  me  down  in  the  well  tell  night!  Oh,  Me 
lissa,  ef  you  only  would,  an'  go  to  Marshall  an'  sign 
them  papers  to  git  us  the  money,  we  could  slip  away 
to-night  an'  ketch  the  train  an'  go  thousands  upon 
top  o'  thousands  o'  miles  away.  All  of  us  together — 
Melissa,  won't  you!" 

"Hush,  Shan,  hush — an' — let  me  think." 

The  woman  turned  away  from  his  whining  and 
went  over  to  the  window.  She  stood  for  a  long  time 
in  silence  looking  out  at  nothing,  and  facing  the 
choice  that  she  had  to  make.  After  a  while,  how 
ever,  her  wide  gaze  became  gradually  focussed. 
What  she  saw  was  the  stout  lateral  limb  of  a  tree 
near  by,  that  swayed  in  the  rising  wind  for  all  the 
world  as  if  something  heavy  were  suspended  from 
it.  It  groaned  and  creaked  with  the  swaying. 

"Quick,  Shan!  To  the  well!"  she  cried,  as  she 
staggered  toward  him. 

Late  that  afternoon,  something  else  momentous 
happened.  The  stranger  tenant  of  the  haunted 
house  walked  into  the  cross-roads  store,  and,  taking 
a  sweeping  survey  of  the  loungers  assembled,  asked 
if  either  Trav  Williams  or  Bud  Davis  were  among 
their  number. 

A  bomb  exploded  in  their  midst  could  not  have 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        311 

created  more  astonishment.  It  was  not  that  they 
feared — though,  indeed,  there  was  that  in  the  keen 
eyes  of  this  virile-looking  six-footer  that  spelled 
trouble.  It  was  rather  unmixed  astonishment  that 
made  them  give  way  before  his  aggressive  assurance. 

Somehow,  he  didn't  look  the  part  of  a  man  who 
was  "plumb  whipped  out  and  scared  to  death,"  ready 
to  take  refuge  in  whatever  remote  and  obscure  hid 
ing-place  would  afford  him  shelter,  as  rumor  had  de 
scribed  him.  He  rather  appeared  dangerously  mus 
cular  and  well-fed  as  to  the  physical,  and  tempera 
mentally  ready  for  trouble  as  he  stood  his  full  height 
among  them  and  inquired  for  the  two  men  of  all 
others  he  was  supposed  to  wish  least  to  encounter. 

But  the  answer  to  his  question  was  not  tardy  in 
coming.  A  great,  brutal,  black-looking  man  came 
forward  promptly,  saying: 

"I'm  Trav  Williams.  Have  you  got  anything  to 
say  to  me?" 

"A  little,  but  to  the  point,"  the  stranger  an 
swered.  "Where's  Davis?" 

"Come  here,  Bud,  ain't  nobody  goin'  to  bite 
you!"  It  was  Trav  Williams  who  called,  and  in 
answer  Bud  Davis  came  out  from  somewhere  in  the 
rear  of  the  crowd,  muttering  as  he  came.  Suddenly, 
but  quietly  and,  it  seemed,  all  unintentionally,  the 
store-keeper  got  mixed  up  with  the  group  that  had 
now  been  given  the  centre  of  the  stage.  It  seemed 
that  the  old  man's  near-sighted  curiosity  made  it 
necessary  for  him  to  obtrude  himself  almost  between 
the  stranger  who  had  entered  and  the  men  for  whom 


312        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

he  was  inquiring.  So  imminent  was  the  old  fellow's 
intrusion,  in  fact,  that  the  stranger  unconsciously 
put  out  his  hand  as  if  to  bar  him  from  coming  be 
tween. 

"  I  haven't  come  here  to  make  trouble,  Mr.  Logan," 
he  said,  incisively,  "I've  come  to  save  these  two  men 
trouble  in  the  future."  This  sounded  interesting, 
and  the  crowd  closed  in.  Marshall  addressed  his 
next  remarks  to  the  assemblage  rather  than  to 
Williams  and  Davis. 

"To  begin  with,"  he  said,  "I  want  to  say  to  you  all, 
that  this  talk  against  the  character  of  Miss  Dale  is  an 
unmitigated,  damnable  lie,  from  first  to  last,  and  that 
it's  time  for  it  to  stop.  You  men  who  have  women 
at  home  to  protect — I'm  speaking  to  you."  The 
shot  went  home — the  word  "chivalry"  had  never 
been  spoken  in  that  presence;  nevertheless,  the 
men  of  the  hills  stood  up  straighter  and  looked  at 
the  intruder  with  glances  that  were  beginning  to 
clarify. 

"  It  seems  that  I  have  laid  the  girl  liable  to  criticism 
by  being  too  much  with  her,"  Marshall  continued. 
"  The  mistake  was  mine,  but  it  was  a  natural  mistake. 
I  was  in  love  with  her  and  wanted  to  marry  her.  I 
naturally  went  with  her  as  much  as  I  could.  When 
my  interest  and  your  interests  clashed,  she  sacrificed 
me  without  hesitation  for  your  sakes.  This  is  the 
truth,  and  it  will  prevail  here  among  men  who  are 
men  right.  As  for  you,"  and  he  turned  on  the  men 
he  had  summoned  with  a  savagery  that  struck  quiet 
the  whole  company,  "what  I've  got  to  say  to  you  is 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        313 

that  if  you  carry  out  what  you  have  planned  together, 
secretly,  against  Mary  Elizabeth  Dale,  I'll  kill  you 
on  sight  and  as  soon  as  I  can  get  to  you." 

With  the  quickness  of  a  panther,  the  black-browed 
native  reached  for  his  rifle  which  lay  on  the  counter, 
but  a  boyish-looking  young  fellow  snatched  it  and 
suddenly  presented  the  muzzle  of  it  to  the  owner's 
face.  Trav  Williams  stood  petrified,  looking  into 
the  shining  eyes  of  the  boy  along  the  shining  rifle 
barrel. 

"Jim  Blakey,  did  you  1'arn  that  at  school?"  one 
of  the  astonished  on-lookers  exclaimed. 

"No,  by  God!"  shrieked  the  excited  boy,  "but  ef 
he's  been  a-schemin'  ag'ins'  teacher,  Pm  goin'  to 
know  what  he's  up  to.  Say  on,  stranger,  what's  he 
an'  Bud  Davis  been  a-doin'?" 

"Jimmy,  boy,  put  down  that  thar  gun — hit  might 
go  off  an'  hurt  somebody."  But  the  old  store 
keeper's  remonstrating  hand  was  promptly  shaken 
off  his  arm. 

"I'm  not  a  'boy,'"  the  youngster  blazed,  "I'm  a 
man!  Stand  back,  I  tell  you,  ever'  one  of  you! 
What  about  teacher,  mister?" 

"Young  man,"  said  Marshall  to  the  raging  boy 
— and  the  tone  which  he  used  to  him  and  the  look 
which  he  gave  him  conferred  the  degree  of  Manhood 
on  the  young  fellow  as  surely  as  a  solemn  rite  might 
have  done — "young  man,  I'm  much  obliged  to  you 
for  keeping  me  from  being  picked  off  before  I  have 
had  my  say  out.  I  appreciate  it  very  much,  but  I'd 
rather  you'd  put  that  down — won't  you? — I  ask  it 


314        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

as  a  favor.  No,  a  little  farther  off,  over  there 
behind  the  counter — thank  you." 

When  Marshall  turned  again  to  Trav  Williams  it 
was  with  the  distinct  feeling  that  more  than  Jimmy 
Blakey  wanted  to  hear  what  he  had  to  say  to  the  two 
silent  but  infuriated  men  before  him. 

"What  do  you  know  'bout  me  an'  Trav?"  Bud 
Davis  challenged  over  Williams's  shoulder. 

"I  know,"  said  Marshall,  looking  not  at  Bud  but 
straight  into  the  eyes  of  the  man  who  would  have 
shot  him,  "I  know  that  you  two  sat  out  yonder  on 
those  back  steps  and  planned  together  to  hold  a 
meeting  of  the  school  board  without  Mr.  Logan  here 
and  turn  the  teacher  out  of  her  position,  disgraced. 
I  know  that  you,  Williams,  said  that  you  were  going 
to  run  her  out  of  the  neighborhood  because  she  was 
influencing  Mrs.  Thaggin  against  letting  that  four 
teen-year-old  child  of  hers  marry  you.  I  know  that 
you,  Davis,  promised  to  drive  the  teacher  from  your 
mother's  roof  in  order  to  help  this  man  in  his  scheme 
against  her.  I  know  that  you  planned  together  to 
keep  this  to  yourselves  till  you  had  succeeded,  be 
cause  you  knew  that  the  men  of  this  community 
who  put  you  on  their  school  board  and  gave  you 
this  power  would  not  stand  for  anything  so  das 
tardly!" 

With  the  roar  of  a  wild  beast,  Trav  Williams 
sprang  at  the  throat  of  his  accuser,  but  before  he 
could  fasten  his  claw-like  ringers  on  their  coveted 
prey,  a  half-dozen  men  had  seized  him  and  borne 
him  back  till  he  was  pinned  against  the  counter. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        315 

They  were  not  assailing,  they  were  merely  detaining, 
inquiring — they  wanted  to  know. 

But  Marshall  flung  off  his  coat  and  waved  the 
crowd  back. 

"Turn  him  loose!"  he  cried  to  the  men  who  were 
holding  the  purple-faced  Trav,  "turn  him  loose!" 

"Don't  do  hit,  boys,  don't  do  hit,"  advised  the 
store-keeper,  adjusting  his  spectacles  carefully  and 
looking  the  two  angry  men  over  critically.  "This 
here  stranger  feller  is  too  well-meanin'  t'ward  our 
little  hill  gal  to  let  him  be  et  alive." 

"  Let  him  go,"  urged  the  stranger.  "  One  of  us  has 
got  to  lick  the  other,  sooner  or  later.  Get  out  of  the 
way  there!  All  I  ask  is  a  fair  fight!" 

But  the  men  who  were  interfering  were  not  ready 
for  a  fight  till  Trav  had  answered  for  himself  the 
stranger's  charge  against  him,  for  there  had  been 
that  in  Marshall's  fearless  statement  and  hi  his 
manly  defence  of  the  girl  that  carried  conviction 
home  to  them.  They  were  a  crude  race,  but  a  fair 
and  fearless  one,  and  they  wanted  to  hear  this  thing 
out  to  the  end. 

But  Marshall,  cheated  of  his  chance,  was  all  the 
madder,  and,  seeing  Bud  Davis  edging  away  along 
the  counter,  turned  on  him  savagely: 

"  You!  What  are  you  going  to  do  about  it? — 
Nobody's  holding  you!" 

Bud  jumped  violently,  and  then  hastened  to  protest : 

"Hit  ain't  true,  thar  ain't  a  word  of  hit  true!  Me 
an'  Trav  ain't  never  said  a  word  about  no  sich 
a-thing " 


3i6        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"You're  a  liar,  we  did  say  hit!"  roared  the  panting 
Trav.  "Who's  here  to  be  skeered  of,  I'd  like  to 
know?" 

An  ominous  growl  ran  through  the  assemblage, 
and  then  the  old  store-keeper  was  speaking  again — a 
little  hastily  this  time: 

"Boys,  boys!  Hit's  all  come  about  th'ough  a 
mistake — a  perfec'ly  nachul  mistake.  Trav  an* 
Bud  may  a-been  shootin'  off  their  jaw  a  little  wild- 
like,  but  that  ain't  enough  to  set  neighbor  ag'in 
neighbor.  A  mistake's  a  mistake " 

"Whose  mistake,  Uncle  Beck?"  one  of  the  men 
who  still  held  a  grip  on  Trav  Williams,  inquired. 

"Why,"  replied  the  old  man,  looking  from  Trav 
to  Bud  and  back  again  with  a  grimness  in  his  erst 
while  kind  old  face  that  took  Marshall  aback,  "why, 
hit's  Trav's  an'  Bud's  mistake — I'm  two-thirds  of 
that  thar  school  board!" 

"Mr.  Williams!  Mr.  Williams!  Billy's  done  been 
bit  by  a  rattlesnake!"  Some  one  came  crying  across 
the  open,  and  the  next  moment  one  of  the  younger 
Thaggins  dashed  into  the  store  with  a  repetition  of 
the  wild  news. 

In  an  instant  the  crowd  was  thrown  into  confusion. 
The  father,  released  now,  rushed  from  the  store,  fol 
lowed  by  every  man  in  it,  including  John  Marshall. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  few  minutes  only  to  bandage 
the  little  fellow's  leg  above  the  wound,  and  then  the 
father  sprang  on  his  horse,  and,  taking  the  injured 
child  in  his  arms,  started  on  a  mad  ride  to  the  coun 
try  doctor.  As  Trav  dashed  out  of  sight,  and  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        317 

sympathetic  crowd  turned  their  faces  toward  the 
store  again,  it  was  noticeable  that  Bud  Davis  and 
Bud  Davis's  horse  were  missing. 

"Went  to  holp  Trav,  mebbe,"  was  the  store 
keeper's  comment. 

On  the  steps  he  stopped  Marshall — the  others  had 
already  gone  in. 

"Stranger,"  he  said,  and  Marshall  noticed  for  the 
first  time,  and  with  a  queer  little  pang  at  the  dis 
covery,  that  he  was  an  old  man — "stranger,  hit's 
proned  into  me  that  you'd  better  be  movin'  on  an' 
leave  us  to  talk  this  matter  over  without  you." 

"If  you  say  so — all  right.  But  tell  those  two  men 
for  me  that  I  mean  exactly  what  I  said — I'm  going 
to  kill  the  first  one  of  them  that  moves  against  Mary 
Elizabeth. — And  wait  a  minute,"  crowding  a  green 
back  into  the  store-keeper's  hand,  "give  this  to 
Jimmy  Blakey  for  me,  won't  you?" 

Early  the  next  morning,  two  covered  mule-wagons 
came  creaking  into  the  camp,  and  slowed  up  in  a 
cleared  space  where  a  group  of  men  stood  discussing 
the  work  projected  for  the  day,  and  listening  for  the 
sound  of  the  breakfast  bell.  But  the  not  unusual 
occurrence  of  the  arrival  of  country  wagons  among 
them  excited  little  more  than  passing  glances  from 
the  men;  and  they  stood  talking  together  till  the 
two  vehicles,  suddenly  halted  before  them,  burst 
into  bloom  as  it  were  with  the  tawny  heads  of  a 
dozen  or  more  children.  Out  front,  out  behind,  and 
all  down  the  sides  where  convenient  rents  in  the  can- 


318        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

vas  covers  afforded  peepholes,  startled-looking  faces 
appeared  in  curious,  scared  wonder. 

"Look,  Dearing,"  laughed  one  of  the  now  inter 
ested  group.  "How's  that  for  a  study?" 

"  Holy  smoke ! "  called  another, "  are  you  an  orphan 
asylum  on  wheels?  Or  have  you  got  something 
packed  away  there  in  the  shape  of  two  or  three  pairs 
of  parents?" 

"Make  it  four  or  five  pairs,  Doc;  you  always  did 
expect  too  much  of  people." 

The  red-cheeked  girl  who  was  driving  the  lead 
wagon  grew  redder-cheeked  still,  and  the  lop-sided 
boy  who  held  the  lines  over  the  second  pair  of  mules 
slunk  further  to  one  side  and  hung  his  head  at  the 
challenge. 

It  was  Fred  Dearing  who  left  the  laughing 
company  and  came  up  to  the  lead  wagon,  saying 
kindly: 

"Can  we  do  anything  for  you?" 

As  he  spoke,  a  ruddy-faced,  rotund  woman  brushed 
aside  a  bunch  of  curious  children  and  peered  out 
the  front  of  the  wagon. 

"Do  air  one  o'  you-uns  know  whar  Mr.  Horton's 
at?  "  she  inquired  loud  enough  for  all  to  hear. 

"Camped  off  his  trail!"  howled  one  very  young 
fellow. 

"Horton!" 

"Horton!!" 

"Horton/" 

The  large  bottle-nosed  man  who  shoved  his  way 
through  their  midst  paid  no  more  attention  to  their 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         319 

gibes  than  if  they  had  been  so  many  flies  buzzing 
about  his  ears. 

"I'm  Mr.  Horton,  ma'am;  what  can  I  do  for 
you?" 

"Mr.  Marshall's  done  wrote  you  a  letter  an'  told 
me  to  give  hit  to  you,"  came  the  unexpected  reply, 
and  she  handed  the  letter  to  the  man  to  whom  it  was 
addressed. 

Instantly  the  badinage  ceased.  Fred  Dealing 
was  not  the  only  man  there  who  entertained  grave 
fears  for  the  situation  in  the  hills.  They  closed 
around  the  recipient  of  the  letter,  curious  to  hear 
the  news;  but  their  grave  faces  lighted  appreciably 
as  Horton,  recognizing  their  uneasiness  intuitively, 
read  aloud: 

"Feed  this  bunch  and  see  them  on  the  seven  o'clock  local. 
You'd  better  get  some  of  the  boys  to  help  you,  as  none  of 
them,  except  the  man,  has  ever  seen  a  train,  and  you  may 
have  trouble.  Please  treat  them  kindly,  and  do  what  you 
can  to  reassure  them.  Hold  wagons  and  teams.  Oblige, 
Marshall." 

"'Man?'  where  in  the  mischief  is  the  man?"  asked 
one;  but  as  none  of  the  new-comers  replied,  and  as 
no  man  appeared,  they  soon  forgot  the  reference, 
and  fell  to  wondering  among  themselves  if  it  could 
be  possible  that  John  Marshall  had  clinched  his  proj 
ect  at  last  and  had  forthwith  set  about  transport 
ing  the  natives.  Fred  Bearing  stood  apart  with  a 
serious  countenance,  while  Horton  gave  orders  that 
the  hillites  be  served  with  breakfast  in  a  double- 


320        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

quick,  and  detailed  a  negro  to  flag  the  southbound 
train. 

When  a  steaming  breakfast  was  spread  for  them 
on  a  convenient  lumber  pile,  the  large  woman  and  a 
most  unlucky  number  of  children  descended  from 
the  wagons  and  fell  to;  but  still  no  man  appeared. 
The  men,  who  were  still  standing  around  in  the  hope 
of  learning  something  of  Marshall,  peered  into  the 
deserted  wagons  or  did  what  they  could  to  try  to  get 
something  out  of  the  feeding  herd  by  means  of  search 
ing  questions.  But  the  children  never  ventured  be 
yond  "I  dunno,"  in  answer,  and  the  woman  main 
tained  a  discreet  silence,  or  replied  deferentially  but 
most  unsatisfactorily. 

"Why  don't  you  go  to  your  breakfast?"  It  was 
Bearing  who  asked  the  sudden  question,  and  the 
lop-sided  driver  of  the  second  wagon,  whom  he  had 
discovered  sidling  up  to  him,  gave  a  violent  start 
and  made  off  to  the  lumber  pile  as  if  he  expected  a 
stone  to  follow  him. 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Dealing  to  the  man  who 
stood  nearest,  "if  that  boy  wasn't  greener  than 
grass,  I'd  suspect  him  of  trying  to  pick  my  pocket. 
Do  you  suppose  he  could  possibly  have  been  up  to 
anything  like  that?" 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  a  number  of  "the  boys" 
volunteered  to  help  get  John's  bunch  safe  on  board 
the  seven  o'clock  local,  Horton  did  have  trouble  in 
the  end.  In  the  surprise  occasioned  by  seeing  the 
hay  at  the  bottom  of  one  of  the  wagons  rise  up  and 
deliver  itself  of  a  man  after  the  train  had  blown  in 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        321 

acknowledgment  of  the  flagging,  and  the  flurry  of 
getting  the  screaming  half-dozen  youngest  on  board 
the  train,  something  went  wrong  after  all. 

The  train  had  scarcely  steamed  out  of  sight,  and 
the  men  turned  their  faces  toward  their  delayed 
morning  meal,  when  something  broke  out  of  the 
bushes  and  running,  sidling  after  them,  came  close 
up  to  Fred  Dealing. 

"Stand  off!"  exclaimed  Bearing,  with  sudden  re 
pugnance,  and  the  boy  shied  with  a  dodge. 

He  had  got  left.  His  name  was  "Tony."  That 
much  their  hurried  questions  developed  and  nothing 
more,  for  the  boy  seemed  little  above  an  idiot.  A 
man  had  to  be  despatched  to  the  nearest  telegraph 
station  to  wire  reassurances  to  the  parents  of  the 
child. 

At  breakfast  that  morning,  Bearing  had  the 
annoyance  of  discovering  the  boy  Tony  crawling  up 
behind  him  on  the  grass.  He  drove  the  creature 
off  peremptorily,  and  finally  as  he  hoped;  for  he  had 
conceived  an  antipathy  for  this  apparently  half 
witted  thing  that  seemed  to  be  so  mysteriously 
drawn  to  him — but  all  to  no  good. 

Time  and  again  all  during  that  day  he  would  find 
the  boy  unaccountably  near  him.  Threats  availed 
only  momentarily;  bribes  were  eagerly  grasped, 
but  their  terms  promptly  disregarded.  The  child 
had  conceived  an  idiotic  fondness  for  him,  Bear 
ing  decided,  but  he  simply  could  not  have  him 
around. 

As  he  laid  his  head  on  his  pillow  that  night,  it  was 


322         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

with  genuine  relief  that  Bearing  remembered  the 
seven  o'clock  local  which,  next  morning,  was  to  bear 
the  unfortunate  child  to  his  parents. 

But  relief  did  not  bring  sleep.  Bearing  was 
troubled.  It  looked  ominous  that  these  people 
should  be  moving  away.  Bid  it  mean  that  John 
had  succeeded  in  that  scheme  of  his?  And  if  it  did, 
was  he,  Bearing,  glad  or  sorry?  It  was  wrong,  very 
wrong — it  ought  not  to  succeed — he  hoped  it 
wouldn't.  But  John 

Suddenly  Bearing  sat  upright  on  his  cot.  What 
was  that?  Surely  he  couldn't  be  getting  nervous! 
But  he  could  have  sworn  that  he  saw  the  opposite 
edge  of  the  tent  lifted  a  little.  The  flap  door  was 
fastened  back,  admitting  the  light  of  the  dying  camp- 
fire.  Any  one  who  chose  to  enter  could  have  free 
access  through  that  opening;  why  should  any  one 
choose  to  tamper  with  the  side  canvas? 

But — yes,  there  it  was  again,  lifted  higher  this 
time  to  admit  something — something  that  crept  and 
crawled  and  writhed  close  to  the  carpet  of  grass. 
Bearing  sat  very  still  in  the  shadow  and  watched  the 
figure  wriggle  in.  It  was  coming  toward  him;  it 
was  very  near  to  him. 

In  a  flash  he  laid  a  strong  hand  on  the  back  of  its 
neck  and  dragged  it  the  rest  of  the  way. 

"You  little  varmint!"  he  exclaimed.  "What  do 
you  want?  Speak  out!" 

But  the  boy  was  too  frightened  to  speak.  He 
fairly  clung  to  the  ground  with  all  the  length  of  him, 
and  whimpered  piteously. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        323 

Bearing  relaxed  his  grasp  until  it  was  fairly 
merciful. 

"What  do  you  want?"  he  asked  again,  and  his 
tone  was  almost  patient.  "  Haven't  you  ever  learned 
to  talk?" 

"I — I — "  the  creature  was  speaking  at  last,  but 
its  voice  was  little  more  than  a  breath,  so  frightened 
was  it,  "I — got — sump'n  to  tell  you!"  it  said. 

"What!"  Bearing  caught  his  breath  with  the 
monosyllable. 

"Ef,  ef  you  don't  git  him  'way  from  thar  quick, 
they'll  kill  him!" 

"Kill  who?    Marshall?" 

"Uh-huh." 

"When?" 

"I  dunno." 

"Who?" 

"I  dunno." 

"But  do  you  know  that  he  is  in  danger  now?" 

"Ye-ye-yes,  mister." 

"Are  you  sure?" 

" Dead  sure.    Make  him  come  away  quick,  quick." 

"God!    Why  didn't  you  tell  me  before?" 

"I  tried  to — but  you  wouldn't  let  me  git  clost 
'nough — an' — an' — I  was  'feard  for  the  rest  to  hear. 
They  might  tell  on  me." 

"Nobody  is  going  to  tell  on  you,  Tony;  we're  all 
your  friends,"  but  all  the  same  he  kept  his  hold  on 
the  boy  and  carried  him  along  as  he  rushed  to  the 
tent  door  and  shouted: 

"Boys !    Boys,  come  here ! " 


324        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Again  and  yet  again  his  voice  rang  out  over  the 
sleeping  camp,  and  something  which  it  carried 
startled  every  man  to  his  feet. 

"How  did  you  come  to  pick  me  out  to  tell?" 
Dealing  asked,  the  moment  he  heard  the  camp  spring 
to  life. 

"I  heerd  the  men  call  you  what  Mr.  Marshall 
called  you  when  he  told  her  how  he  loved  you." 

Bearing  looked  toward  the  distant  hills — John  was 
there — in  danger — John  ! 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

IT  was  early  Sunday  morning,  but  the  Davis 
family  had  already  breakfasted,  and  Mary  Eliza 
beth  now  stood  on  the  end  of  the  front  porch  and 
looked  along  the  distance  over  which  her  vision 
could  not  carry,  toward  the  Thaggin  home.  Last 
night,  late,  she  had  stood  just  here  with  her  eyes  and 
heart  turned  toward  Melissa  Thaggin.  This  morn 
ing  the  first  thing,  she  had  thought  of  Melissa,  and 
now,  she  was  here  again  with  all  her  thoughts  reach 
ing  out  to  her. 

Then,  as  if  drawn  by  a  magnet,  the  girl  stepped 
from  the  low  porch,  and  hurried  along  the  path 
where  her  thoughts  led  the  way. 

Melissa  Thaggin  knew  that  it  was  sin  for  a  girl 
to  marry  a  man  who  was  sinful — Melissa  knew  be 
cause  she,  Mary  Elizabeth,  had  told  her  so.  Now, 
she  wanted  Melissa  to  say  back  to  her  just  how 
wrong  it  was — she  wanted  that  brave,  good  woman 
to  repeat  it  to  her.  The  tune  had  come  when  she 
had  to  have  a  woman's  heart  to  lean  upon,  and  she 
was  going  to  Melissa. 

The  way  was  long,  longer  through  its  dull  famil 
iarity,  but  the  girl  did  not  slacken  her  pace  till  she 
reached  the  bars  that  divided  the  Thaggin  premises 
from  the  woods.  It  was  then  she  discovered  that 

325- 


326        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

her  skirts  were  wet  to  the  knees  with  the  heavy  morn 
ing  dew  and  discolored  with  the  stains  of  grass  and 
weeds.  With  only  a  passing  impatience  at  her  own 
lack  of  care,  she  entered  the  field  that  occupied  what 
would  have  been  the  front  lawn  in  another  state  of 
civilization. 

The  bars  were  down — it  was  unlike  Mrs.  Thaggin 
to  allow  such  carelessness.  Mary  Elizabeth  stopped 
and  carefully  put  them  up  again,  sliding  each  bar 
into  its  socket.  Then  she  turned  toward  the  house 
and  took  her  way  along  the  foot-path  that  led 
through  the  springing  corn. 

Where  were  the  children?  And  where — where — ? 
Mary  Elizabeth  stopped  still.  It  was  all  so  quiet,  so 
deserted! 

Then  she  walked  slowly  forward,  looking  to  right 
and  to  left  and  again  at  the  silent  house.  Hogs  were 
in  the  field  across  to  the  left,  rooting  up  the  young 
corn;  the  garden  gate  was  open  and  cows  were 
battening  on  the  early  vegetables.  Not  at  door 
nor  window,  not  from  under  the  house  nor  from 
any  one  of  the  various  crannies  about  the  place, 
peered  a  single  tawny-haired  urchin. 

The  front  door  had  dropped  ajar  and  the  expres 
sionless  windows  stared  blankly  into  the  unseen. 
It  was  as  if  the  spirit  had  departed  in  panic,  leaving 
this,  the  shell,  agape  but  dumb  at  the  tragedy  of  the 
leave-taking. 

Mary  Elizabeth  hurried  to  the  open  door,  and  the 
sound  of  her  own  footsteps  in  the  entry,  augmented 
by  the  all-pervading  quiet,  startled  her  at  first  into 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        327 

looking  back  apprehensively.  On  tip-toe  now,  she 
pushed  the  door  wide  open,  and  stood  bewildered 
before  the  confusion  there  displayed. 

The  room  was  in  chaos.  Drawers  had  been  turned 
out,  rifled,  and  left  empty  on  the  floor;  boxes, 
dragged  from  somewhere,  had  been  pillaged  of  their 
contents  and  left  to  block  the  way;  the  little  pine 
bedsteads  in  the  corners  were  '  stripped  of  their 
dignities'  and  were  hiding  under  the  rubbish  piled 
upon  them;  the  barrel  chair  beside  the  black  and 
yawning  fireplace  no  longer  interposed  a  padded 
homespun  covering  between  itself  and  the  critical 
world. 

A  pair  of  worn-out,  mud-clotted,  run-down  shoes 
lay  right  in  the  girl's  path  as  she  advanced,  and  she 
stopped  as  at  the  hest  of  a  familiar  voice.  Yes,  they 
were  Tony's.  Anybody  could  have  told  that,  for 
they  looked  just  like  the  boy.  Something  tightened 
in  her  throat  as  she  bent  over  them  for  a  moment. 
Poor  shambling,  unguided  feet!  What  of  the  way 
they  would  take? 

Aghast,  confounded,  Mary  Elizabeth  hurried  to 
the  other  apartments — to  the  shed-room,  back  to  the 
front  room  across  the  entry,  to  the  kitchen  in  the 
rear  of  this,  and  then  back  to  the  big  room  again. 
Everywhere  was  chaos,  and  everywhere  that  fright 
ening,  inexplicable  quiet. 

And  then  the  truth  dawned  on  her :  The  Thaggins 
had  sold  out  to  John  Marshall,  and  had  decamped 
in  the  night-time! 

And  almost  as  the  thought  seized  her  she  spied  a 


328        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

folded  paper  tacked  to  the  mantel-shelf.  It  was  the 
work  of  a  minute  to  unfasten  and  unfold  its  one  page. 
It  said  simply: 

"Tell  May  lizbeth  I  jes  had  to  sell.    Merlissa." 

A  change  came  upon  the  girl  as  she  read.  She 
stood  up  very  straight,  the  delicate  mouth  hardened, 
the  violet  eyes  turned  black. 

Turning  quickly,  she  ran  down  the  back  steps  and 
out  to  the  lot.  The  mules  were  gone  and  so  were  the 
wagons.  But  Shan's  pony  was  there  in  his  stall. 
With  mouth  still  cruelly  tight  and  with  eyes  blazing, 
the  girl  snatched  down  a  bridle  from  the  wall,  forced 
the  bit  into  the  pony's  mouth,  and  buckled  the  bridle 
securely.  Then  she  looked  all  about,  but  no  saddle 
could  she  see. 

Nothing  daunted,  she  led  the  pony  out  to  the 
horse-block  and  mounted  him  bareback.  An  over 
hanging  elm  limb  gave  her  a  good  stout  switch,  and 
she  presently  rode  out  of  the  back  gate  and  down  the 
wood-road  at  an  unsafe  speed.  Shan's  pony  was  a 
good  traveller,  and  hardly  needed  the  encouragement 
of  the  whip,  but  the  rider  who  sat  him  now  had  some 
thing  to  take  out  on  somebody,  and  her  mount  was 
nearest  at  hand. 

Down  the  wood-road  she  sped,  skirting  at  a  wild 
pace  the  Golgotha  where  slept  the  conquerors  of  the 
wilderness,  and  scarcely  tightening  rein  past  the  iso 
lated  grave  of  the  man  whose  patience  had  been  tried 
once  too  often.  Up  the  west  ridge  she  urged  her 
steed,  then  over  the  mountain  crest  and  down  the 
other  side  past  a  little  tumbled -down,  deserted  log 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         329 

cabin  that  was  clinging  to  and  subsiding  against  the 
gray,  crumbling  rocks  of  the  hillside.  Mary  Eliza 
beth  turned  her  face  away  from  this  home  of  broken 
promises  as  she  rode,  but  the  heaven- tree  shoots  and 
pokeberry  bushes  tore  at  her  skirts  as  she  passed. 

It  was  a  very  white  but  very  spirited-looking  girl 
who  slipped  off  the  pony  at  the  door  of  the  old  store 
keeper's  hermit  home. 

Uncle  Beck  was  sitting  just  inside  the  door  of  his 
cabin,  reading  something  that  looked  suspiciously 
like  the  Bible,  when  the  light  of  the  open  door  was 
suddenly  dimmed,  and  he  looked  up  to  behold  what 
seemed  at  the  first  glance,  the  ghost  of  a  girl. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth!  Why,  child,  why,  gal!  Come 
in,  honey,  an'  set  right  down  thar  in  that  rockin'- 
cheer.  You  look  plum  tuckered  out." 

But  Mary  Elizabeth  did  not  sit  down.  She  came 
in  and  stood  before  the  old  man  with  her  hands 
clasped  tight  before  her  and  her  haunting  eyes  on  his 
own. 

"Uncle  Beck,"  she  said,  "I'm  desperate!" 

The  old  man  lowered  the  spectacles  he  had  pushed 
back,  and  regarded  her  through  them,  critically. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,"  he  answered  incisively,  "you 
ain't  never  took  that  dost  o'  calomel." 

The  next  minute,  however,  he  was  on  his  feet  with 
his  old  hands  tenderly  grasping  her  arms,  for  a  look 
had  passed  over  the  face  of  the  girl  that  put  joking 
out  of  the  question,  and  shook  even  his  steady  philos 
opher's  nerve. 

"Set  down  thar,  honey,  in  that  good  easy  cheer," 


330        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

he  urged,  "an5  tell  your  Uncle  Beck  what's  pesterin' 
you.  Set  down  like  I  tell  you,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  you 
look  so  white  an'  tiredlike."  And  then,  hi  exaspera 
tion — "Set  down  this  minute,  miss!  La,  you  done 
got  so  you  won't  mind  tell  a  body  hollers  at  you!" 

When  he  had  carried  his  point,  he  took  his  seat 
opposite  the  girl  across  the  little  centre-table,  and 
said  firmly,  but  gently: 

"Now,  le's  have  hit.    What's  to  pay? " 

"We  are  ruined — sold  out!  We — "  Her  eyes, 
black  in  their  intensity,  said  the  rest. 

"Say  that  ag'in."  The  old  man  had  become  very 
quiet. 

"Melissa  Thaggin  has  betrayed  us!  They  have 
sold  out  to  that  man,  and  disappeared." 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth— you — don't  mean — that" 

"  I  have  been  there  this  morning.  The  place  was 
literally  torn  to  pieces,  and  they  were  gone.  I  found 
this  pinned  on  the  mantel." 

The  old  man  took  the  note  she  handed  him  and 
read  it  again  and  again.  Then  he  folded  and  folded 
it  till  it  was  little  more  than  a  slip. 

"Hit  looks  black — hit  looks  black!" — the  sunshine 
had  gone  out  of  his  cheery  face,  now.  "Sump'n's 
got  to  be  done!" 

"What?"  demanded  the  girl. 

"'What?'  'what?'"  echoed  the  old  man  as  if  him 
self  in  hopeless  search  of  the  answer.  "Why,  we've 
got  to  block  him  at  another  turn.  We've  got  to— 
I'm  a-goin'  to  start  to  Montgom'ry  to-morrow 
evenin' ! 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         331 

• — I'm  a-goin'  to  telegraph  that  lawyer  feller  to  meet 
me  thar.  But " 

"But  what?"  demanded  the  girl  again. 

"But  I'll  have  to  leave  Trav  behind  this  time,  I'll 
never  be  able  to  fool  him  twict.  Lord,  ef  somebody 
would  only  cripple  him  tell  I  git  back!" 

"Uncle  Beck!" 

"Wa-al?" 

"That  man  told  me  days  ago  that  he  had  secured 
titles  to  every  foot  of  land  in  the  valley  except  the 
Thaggin  farm!" 

A  groan  escaped  her  listener  in  spite  of  himself,  and 
his  withered  face  was  ashen  and  drawn  as  he  ran  his 
knotted  fingers  through  and  through  his  thin  gray 
hair  and  stared  out  at  the  pale  sunshine. 

"Hit  ain't  true,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  hit  can't  be  true! 
An'  yet- 

"And  yet?"  she  echoed,  her  breath  coming  short 
with  suspense. 

"An'  yet,"  continued  the  man,  and  he  might  have 
been  pronouncing  a  death  sentence  as  he  said  it,  so 
solemn  was  his  tone — "an'  yet,  hit  may  be.  Hit 
may  be!  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  years  an'  years  ago,  some 
body  told  me  that  thar  was  a  lot  o'  gov'ment  land 
hereabouts,  an'  I'd  better  look  to  my  titles.  I 
looked,  an'  shore  'nough,  I  found  that  I  had  to  sign 
up  several  papers  an'  pay  out  a  couple  o'  fees  to  git 
this  here  little  place  firm  rooted  to  the  spot.  I 
warned  the  others  'bout  hit  then — the  old  folks 
what's  mostly  dead  an'  gone — but  none  of  'em  would 
n't  listen  to  me.  They  was  mostly  'feard  o'  signin' 


332         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

papers,  an'  them  that  wa'n't,  balked  at  the  fees. 
Some  of  'em  'lowed  they'd  tear  the  gov'ment  up  by 
the  roots  before  they  would  pay  for  what  was  already 
theirn.  Wa-al,  I  done  what  the  man  at  the  land 
ornce  said  do,  an'  nailed  my  little  corn-patch  to  the 
map.  Lord,  but  I  wisht  hit  was  over  thar  in  the 
valley  whar  hit  could  he'p  'em  out!" 

"But,  Uncle  Beck,"  cried  the  girl,  twisting  her 
hands  in  her  impatience,  "wouldn't  you  better  go 
to  Montgomery,  anyhow?  There  might  be  some 
chance — I'll  help  with  the  expense  of  the  trip. 
Please  go!" 

A  touch  of  pathos  stole  into  the  old  man's  troubled 
look,  and  then  he  said,  tenderly: 

"Yes,  Blossom,  I'll  go — me  an'  you  air  so  rich!" 
— And  then,  with  a  bitterness  foreign  to  him — "Me 
an'  you  an'  Shan  Thaggin!" 

The  girl  struck  her  little  hands  on  the  table  be 
tween  with  a  force  that  hurt. 

"That's  the  thing  that  I  can't  forgive  in  fate, 
Uncle  Beck.  Here  is  that  creature  who  has  slunk 
and  cringed  and  ducked  and  lied — he  has  gone  scot- 
free  with  no  loss,  no  punishment!" 

"Shan's  stren'th  was  in  his  pliability,  Ma'y  'Liz- 
beth.  Hit's  them  that  won't  bend  that  gits  broke." 

"And  Shan  Thaggin  is  a  rich  man  to-day!" 

"Shan  Thaggin  ain't  no  man  a-tall,  honey." 

The  girl  looked  at  him  as  if  for  the  first  time  dur 
ing  the  interview.  His  eyes  were  grave  and  quiet, 
and  there  was  in  the  depth  of  them  the  look  that  be 
longed  to  a  blessed  memory. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         333 

"You,"  she  said,  "you  believe  that  way  too? — 
that  character  is  all  in  all?" 

"That's  about  hit,  honey." 

"Then,"  and  her  eyes  blazed  again,  "then  sin 
against  character  is  the  unpardonable!" 

"What  you  talkin'  'bout,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth?" 

"About  that  man  Marshall  and  the  price  that  he 
paid  for  Melissa  Thaggin's  soul!" 

"Poor  Melissa!" 

Mary  Elizabeth  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant. 

"You  say  that! — that  about  a  woman  who  could 
sell  her  own  people  for  a  price !  A  woman  who  would 
barter  the  very  soul  of  her  for  that  man's  money " 

"Go  slow,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  go  slow!" 

"I  won't  go  slow — hasn't  she  sold  that  whole  val 
ley  there?" 

"Mebbe,  but  you  don't  know  what's  behind." 

"I  do  know  what's  behind,  John  Marshall's  money 
was  behind! — No,  I  won't  sit  down,  either;  let  me 
alone,  Uncle  Beck! — Oh,  don't  you  see  what  it  means? 
It's  not  just  that  miserable  little  farm  that  has  been 
surrendered — Melissa  has  traded  her  integrity,  her 
high  ideals  of  duty." 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,"  said  he,  and  his  voice  sounded 
old  and  tired  as  he  said  it,  "when  you  git  to  be  sixty- 
nine  you'll  find  out  that  people  with  'high  ideals'  of 
duty  air  sometimes  in  much  the  same  fix  as  the  feller 
that's  walkin'  'round  on  stilts — they're  high  up  in 
the  landscape  all  right,  but  shaky  on  their  legs,  an' 
they  air  liable  to  git  their  props  knocked  from  under 
'em  by  the  first  feller  that  has  his  feet  planted  solid 
on  the  earth." 


334        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  girl  was  facing  him  with  head  up  and  eyes 
flashing  with  indignation. 

"I'm  not  going  to  talk  to  you,"  she  exclaimed  bit 
terly;  "I'm  going  to  talk  to  Bud  Davis!" 

The  old  man  rose  promptly  and  pushed  back  his 
chair. 

"No,  you  ain't,  neither,"  he  replied  firmly.  "  You 
ain't  a-goin'  to  Bud  Davis  in  no  sich  a  reckless  fit. 
Look  a-here,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  the  responsibility  for 
these  here  people  ain't  all  yourn.  Git  that  into 
your  head,  ef  you  kin.  There's  been  a  Saviour  of 
souls,  but  th'ough  all  time,  hit's  been  ever'  man's 
individual  business  to  take  keer  of  his  own  hide. — 
No — stop.  Ef  you've  got  to  be  the  one  to  carry 
this  here  firebrand  on,  go  to  Babe  with  hit." 

"Babe ! — I  can't  even  depend  on  Babe  any  longer. 
Why,  he  once  actually  tried  to  get  me  not  to  say  any 
thing  against  that  man — and  that,  when  he  knew  that 
he  was  slowly  choking  the  people  into  loosening  their 
grasp  on  what  was  their  own!  You'll  be  telling  me 
that  there  is  'something  behind'  Babe,  next." 

"Yes,  an'  you're  a-thinkin'  right  this  minute  that 
thar's  '  sump'n  behind '  with  me  too,  you  little  spit 
fire,  but  you  dassen't  say  hit!" 

The  girl  looked  at  him  steadily  for  a  minute  and 
then  turned  to  the  door,  but  the  old  man  laid  a  firm 
grasp  on  her  wrist  and  stopped  her. 

"Air  you  goin'  to  Bud  Davis?"  he  asked. 

"lam." 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,"  he  said  quietly,  and  his  voice 
had  lost  all  its  impatience,  "Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  ef  you'll 
set  down  peaceable  an'  quietlike  for  a  spell,  I  think  I 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        335 

kin  clear  things  up  for  you  a  bit;  then  after  that  you 
kin  go  to  Bud  with  what  you  will." 

He  drew  her  gently  to  the  arm-chair,  and  the  girl 
took  her  seat,  wonderingly  watching  his  changed  face. 
The  deep  lines  of  it  had  softened  indescribably, 
almost  pitiably.  He  looked  old  and  pained  as  he 
leaned  on  the  little  table  between  them  and  studied 
her  face. 

"Ma'y  'Lizabeth,  do  you  want  to  know  what  thar 
is  behind  me  an'  Babe?  Do  you  want  to  know  why 
John  Marshall  let  you  tell  that  story  ag'inst  him? 
Why  he  stayed  here  after  he  thought  he  was  done 
licked  in  spite  o'  bein'  twict  warned  to  go?  Do  you 
want  to  know  why  you  oughtn't  to  go  to  Bud  Davis 
in  the  desp'rate  mood  you  air  hi?" 

"Why— why— yes!" 

"Then  look  at  me  with  Welchel  Dale's  eyes,  child, 
for  hit  takes  courage  to  hurt  you." 

"WRat  is  it,  Uncle  Beck?"  She  was  looking  at 
him  with  Welchel  Dale's  eyes,  but  the  old  man's  gaze 
gradually  lowered  before  their  blue  purity  till  he  sat 
staring  at  his  own  knotted  and  seamed  hands.  After 
a  little  he  began  slowly: 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  the  people  'bout  here  have  been 
sayin' — the  people  'bout  here  have  been  sayin' — 
they've  been  sayin' — bad  things  'bout  you  an'  John 
Marshall."  He  paused  a  moment,  but  he  did  not 
look  up,  and  only  the  tick  of  the  little  clock  on  the 
mantel  answered  him.  He  cleared  his  throat  vig 
orously  and  then  went  on: 

"Gran'ma  Thaggin  told  Marshall  'bout  hit,  an' 


336         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Marshall  raised  the  old  devil  with  Shan.  Melissa 
told  me  he'd  a-kilt  Shan  ef  she  hadn't  a-stepped  in 
between  'em.  He  told  Shan  he'd  beat  him  into  a 
jelly  ef  either  him  or  his  womenfolks  ever  opened 
their  mouth  'bout  you  ag'in.  The  next  mornin' 
he  went  to  you  at  Aunt  Millie's  an'  told  you  you 
might  could  repeat  anything  you  knowed  ag'inst 
him.  Marshall  told  Babe  all  about  hit  so  he  could 
put  him  on  guard  to  not  let  nobody  tell  you,  'cause 
he  was  skeered — hit — would  shame  you  so  hit  would 
break  your  heart.  He  told  Babe,  Marshall  did,  that 
he  give  you  permission  to  tell  all  about  his  reservoy 
scheme  so  you  could  prove  to  the  people  that  you 
was  their  friend  ag'inst  him.  An'  he  told  Babe  to 
paint  him  black  to  the  people  so  they  would  think 
the  more  of  you — an'  so  that  they  would — would 
stop  sayin' — sayin'" — the  knotted  old  hands  were 
holding  their  interest  well — "stop  sayin'  that  you 
— was  his  property. — But  Millie  Davis  an'  Bud  has 
been  a-tellin'  'em  sence  that  you  jes  turned  'ginst 
Marshall  'cause  he  had  done  got  tired  of  you  an' 
th'owed  you  off,  an'  that  hit  was  all  true — 'bout 
— 'bout  you  an'  him." 

It  was  only  a  faint  little  cry,  but  it  went  to  the 
old  man's  heart,  and  he  started  and  looked  up  with 
a  hard  pain  in  his  throat  as  the  girl  sank  with  her 
arms  and  head  prone  on  the  table. 

Instantly  one  of  the  knotted  and  seamed  hands 
was  laid  on  the  brown  curls.  It  was  shaking,  and 
so  was  the  old  man's  voice: 

"Marshall  'lowed  that  you  was  too  frail  to  stand 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        337 

knowin'  'bout  their  talk,  but  I  knowed  Welchel 
Dale's  sperit,  an'  I  knowed  hit  was  tougher  fibre 
than  that.  I  knowed  hit  could  stand  the  truth — 
'Uncle  Beck'  knowed  hit  could  stand  the  truth  an' 
be  brave  in  face  of  hit,  he  knowed  hit" — the  old 
man's  fingers  were  wandering  tenderly  among  the 
tumbled  curls 

"  Wa-al,  wa-al " — he  continued  with  a  deep-drawn 
sigh — "  things  have  jes  gone  from  bad  to  worse,  some 
how,  an'  somebody  told  Marshall  the  other  day  that 
Bud  an'  Trav  was  a-goin'  to — to — oh,  I  disremember 
the  details  now,  but  anyhow,  Marshall  come  to  the 
store  yistiddy  an'  called  out  Trav  an'  Bud  an'  told 
'em  right  up  an'  down  that  ef  they  made  another 
single  move  ag'inst  you,  he  was  a-goin'  to  kill  'em 
both  on  sight." 

A  shudder  ran  through  the  girl's  slight  frame 
from  head  to  foot,  but  she  did  not  look  up,  and  the 
old  man  continued: 

"So  you  see,  honey,  this  here  thing  o'  character 
is  many-sided,  an'  we  can't  see  all  sides  from  jes 
one  stand-p'int.  Marshall  th'owed  his  own  plans  to 
the  wind  to  give  you  a  chanct  to  win  over  your 
enemies,  an'  he  has  stayed  here  stubbornlike  ever 
sence  to  see  that  nobody  didn't  do  nothin'  to  you, 
though  me  an'  Babe  both  have  told  him  we  wouldn't 
give  ten  cents  for  his  skin  ef  he  didn't  light  out. 

"That,  honey,  is  the  coin  John  Marshall  has 
bought  me  an'  Babe  with.  An'  we  have  decided 
betwixt  us  two  that  although  we  air  goin'  to  fight 
the  feller  to  the  last  through  the  courts  'bout  this 


338        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

here  land  business,  we  ain't  a-goin'  to  stand  by  an' 
see  him  butchered. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth — Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  brace  up,  gal! 
Set  up  now — set  up — that's  hit,  honey,  that's  hit — 
face  the  siterwation!  Welchel  Dale  could  face  any 
thing  when  he  seen  the  way." 

"But,  but,"  she  faltered— "oh  God,  I've  lost  the 
way!" 

There  was  a  long  silence  between  them,  and  then 
the  old  man  began  to  move  about  on  tip-toe,  as  if 
death  had  entered  the  cabin  door  and  summoned 
away  something  that  was  never  more  to  return. 

When  he  came  back  to  the  girl  who  still  sat  with 
her  face  covered,  he  said  in  a  half -whisper: 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  gal,  here's  a  letter  what  your 
guardeen  sont  me  for  you  when  you  come  home  last 
fall.  He  said  for  you  not  to  have  it  tell  you  had 
tried  and  failed. — You  don't  feel  equal  to  hit  now? 
— Wa-al,  Uncle  Beck  will  jes  slip  hit  in  your  pocket 
here,  an'  you  kin  read  hit  when — when  you're  feel- 
in'  more  like  hit. 

"Hit's  Uncle  Beck's  own  brave  little  gal,  that's 
whose  gal  hit  is!". 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

MARY  ELIZABETH  did  not  count  the  remaining 
hours  of  that  fateful  day.  When  Uncle  Beck 
brought  her  home  in  his  buggy  and  entered  with  her 
to  bespeak  kindness  toward  her  at  the  hands  of  the 
Davises,  she  slipped  into  her  own  room  at  once,  and, 
throwing  herself  on  her  bed,  lay  with  one  white  arm 
across  her  eyes  without  thought  of  the  passage  of 
time. 

The  family  had  already  returned  from  church,  for 
she  had  been  long  at  Uncle  Beck's.  The  dinner 
hour  must  have  come  in  due  course,  for  there  came 
a  tune  when  Babe  tipped  to  the  door  to  ask  her  if 
she  wasn't  "hongry,"  and  if  he  couldn't  fetch  her 
something  to  eat. 

Then  the  long  afternoon  hours,  too,  must  have 
passed  somehow,  for  now  the  day  noises  were  gradu 
ally  sinking  into  a  drowsy  quiet,  and  the  night 
noises  were  stirring  the  forest. 

Then  Babe  tipped  in  again  to  ask  if  she  wasn't 
hongry,  and  to  receive  again  the  same  discouraging, 
but  perfectly  quiet  reply — and  then,  bedtime  sounds 
in  the  next  room — and  after  a  space,  stillness. 

There  seemed  to  elapse  a  long  period  of  stillness, 
and  then  the  girl  struggled  up  to  a  sitting  posture, 
and  caught  up  and  fastened  her  dishevelled  hair* 

339 


340        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  atmosphere  of  the  little  room  was  very  close, 
too  close  to  allow  a  body  to  think,  or  to  care  what 
happened.  Outside  it  would  be  better,  and  the 
others  were  all  asleep,  they  would  not  hear. 

She  opened  the  door  cautiously.  Yes,  it  was 
black  dark — but — lightning!  And  thunderheads ! 
And  the  trees  were  beginning  to  stir.  Over  yonder 
among  the  great  swaying  pines,  under  that  piled-up 
and  surging  blackness  in  the  heavens,  with  now  and 
again  the  white  lightning  over  all,  one  might  hope 
to  shake  off  this  killing  numbness,  one  might  hope 
to  think,  to  suffer,  to  live  again! 

Mary  Elizabeth  slipped  off  the  little  porch  in  an 
interlude  in  the  dense  blackness,  and  hurried  across 
the  yard  space,  across  the  washed  and  rolling  clay 
stretches,  to  seek  inspiration  of  the  now  protest 
ing  pines.  Yes,  the  wind  was  springing  up,  there 
was  battle  in  the  air!  Giant  and  Titan  were  op 
posed  to  each  other.  And  out  of  the  South  the 
black  wrack  was  being  driven  across  the  dim  dark 
sky.  Oh,  for  the  lightning! 

The  girl  had  flung  herself  down  on  the  pine  needles 
now,  in  the  midst  of  the  struggling  hosts,  but  where 
she  could  watch  the  inky  thunderheads  boiling  above. 
Oh,  for  the  lightning! — the  white  lightning  over  all! 

And  oh,  for  the  power  to  suffer  again ! 

But  it  was  gone!  Gone  with  all  the  rest — with 
the  power  to  think,  to  hope,  to  laugh,  to  live;  and 
nothing  was  left  but  the  memory  of  the  exquisite 
pain  of  it  all,  but  this  wild  invocation  to  the  spirit 
of  the  storm  to  descend  again. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        341 

Suddenly,  the  girl  flattened  herself  out  on  the 
brown  earth  with  the  instinct  of  the  wild  life  from 
which  she  had  sprung.  She  laid  her  ear  to  the 
ground.  There  were  sounds  approaching — sounds 
that  were  not  of  the  coming  storm.  Footsteps,  yes, 
heavy  footsteps! 

Some  one — something — was  coming  right  toward 
her  in  the  blackness! 

As  swift  as  a  snake  that  glides  to  shelter,  the  girl 
drew  her  lithe  body  across  the  pine  straw  to  the  foot 
of  a  giant  pine.  She  flattened  herself  against  the 
great  trunk;  she  glided  slowly  round  it,  and  lay  up 
against  it  as  close  as  the  clinging  ivy  might.  Her 
every  sense  was  alert.  She  had  been  bred  in  the 
hills  and  born  amidst  their  wildness,  and  the  little 
more  than  a  decade  of  higher  civilization  that  had 
been  vouchsafed  to  her  suddenly  fell  away  from  her. 
She  belonged  to  the  hills,  to  the  night,  to  whatever 
of  storm  threatened  from  the  black  wrack  driving 
over,  or  from  those  heavy  footsteps  on  the  darker 
earth  beneath. 

The  footsteps !  They  were  coming  nearer !  They 
must  be  on  this  side  the  gully — on  this  side  the 
fence — they  were  here,  here,  right  in  this  clump  of 
pines,  now — and  now  they  were  under  this  very  tree 
— they  were — oh,  God!  something  was  on  the 
other  side  this  very  trunk  to  which  she  was  clinging; 
if  she  would  but  reach  out  her  hand  she  could  touch 
— what  it  was! 

And  now — voices!  Mary  Elizabeth's  heart  stood 
still  to  hear. 


342         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"What  I  want  to  know  is,  have  you  got  enough  of 
sidin'  ag'in  your  own  an'  havin'  that  feller  Marshall 
givin'  warnin'  to  you  an'  me?  "  It  was  Bud  Davis's 
voice  that  was  speaking,  and  it  sounded  so  near  that 
the  girl  started  as  if  he  had  spoken  in  her  ear.  In 
one  of  those  moments  of  stillness  that  come  just 
before  a  storm,  Trav  Williams's  voice  was  easily 
recognizable  in  reply: 

"I  ain't  been  a-sidin'  ag'in  my  own,  I've  been 
workin'  my  might  an'  main  to  settle  this  thing  in 
the  way  that  would  be  easiest  on  us  all." 

"Wa-al,  have  you  got  enough  of  hit?" 

"I've  got  enough  of  Beck  Login,  all  right,  an'  I 
lay  I'm  goin'  to  stop  his  runnin'  over  ever'body  in 
the  settlement,  an'  a-takin'  the  part,  underhanded, 
of  ever'  damned  stranger  that  comes  prowlin'  round. 
But  you  needn't  a-think  we  kin  make  way  with  that 
devil  on  the  hill  as  easy  as  we  done  with  Welchel 
Dale,  an'  have  nobody  bother  to  ast  questions  'bout 
hit." 

"Don't!" 

"Don't  what?" 

"Don't  call  names — don't  call  that  name — some 
body  might  hear!" 

The  other's  voice  was  grating  and  jeering  as  he 
replied: 

"You're  skeered!  You're  skeered  right  this  min 
ute  that  Welchel  Dale's  sperit  is  hoverin'  near!" 

"Don't!" 

The  other  laughed — "Do  you  know  what  tree 
this  is?" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        343 

He  was  answered  with  an  oath  and  the  sound  as 
of  a  man  springing  to  his  feet. 

"Yes,"  the  jeering  voice  went  on,  "this  is  whar  we 
done  hit,  an'  ef  ghosts  could  ha'nt,  Welchel  Dale's 
sperit  would  raise  hell  with  us  to-night! — Set  down, 
Bud.  Don't  play  the  coward." 

There  was  the  sound  as  of  the  scraping  of  a  man's 
shoulders  against  the  rough  bark,  and  then  Bud 
Davis's  voice  again: 

"An'  who's  thar  to  ast  questions  about  Marshall, 
I'd  like  to  know?  An'  Shan's  done  sold  out  to  him. 
Sold  out  to  him!  What  you  got  to  say  'bout  that?" 

"That  John  Marshall'll  never  live  to  set  foot  on 
that  place." 

"Do  you  mean  hit,  Trav,  do  you  mean  hit? — 
What  was  thai!" 

"Welchel  Dale's  sperit  right  behind  you,  Bud!" 
and  Trav  laughed  again. 

A  volley  of  oaths  from  the  other  was  checked  with: 

"Now  look  a-here,  Bud,  ef  you're  a-goin'  to  he'p 
settle  this  here  business,  you've  got  to  git  your  nerve 
in  better  trainin'.  I  was  jes  tryin'  you." 

"My  nerve's  all  right  for  business,  ef  that's  what 
you're  up  to,  but  I  don't  want  no  more  foolin'  with 
— with — dead  an'  gone  troubles.  Now  what's  your 
idea?" 

"We  must  finish  him  to-night." 

"To-night?" 

"To-night." 

"When?" 

"Jes  'fore  day — 'long  'tween  three  an'  four  o'clock 


344        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

is  a  good  time.  He'll  be  soundest  asleep  in  that 
part  o'  the  night." 

"How,Trav?" 

"Shoot  him  like  a  dog." 

"Which  one  of  us?" 

"You  an'  me  an'  Ri  Slaton  an'  Jim  Haskins  an' 
Eli  Thornton,  an'  ol'  man  Slocum's  boys  ef  we  need 
'em.— What  you  think?" 

"  Git  the  Slocums,  of  course." 

"I  knowed  you  was  a-goin'  to  say  hit.  Wa-al, 
ef  you  think  hit'll  take  seven  of  us  to  stop  one  feller's 
breath,  you  kin  go  after  the  Slocums  yourself  an' 
bring  'em  to  my  house." 

"Will  they  all  he'p,  you  reckon?  Beck  Login's 
got  a  powerful  hold  on  'em." 

The  fierce  oath  that  answered  was  followed  by: 
"Don't  you  know  the  jig's  up  with  us  now  ef  we 
don't  pull  together?  An'  don't  they  all  know  hit 
by  now?  Why,  I  could  a-got  ever'  man  in  the  val 
ley  ef  I'd  a-wanted  'em — but  I  picked  my  men.  Ri 
an'  Jim  an'  EH  air  a-goin'  to  meet  thar  'bout  mid 
night,  an'  we'll  have  a  little  jamboree  'fore  we  start 
out — Lord — Lord — thar's  Welchel  Dale's  sperit 
right  behind  you!" 

There  was  the  instant  shuffling  of  feet  again, 
and  oaths,  followed  by  the  noise  of  a  man  breaking 
his  way  through  the  bushes,  and  by  a  jeering  laugh; 
then  later,  slower,  more  deliberate  steps — and  silence. 

And  then  the  lightning!  The  white  lightning  over 
all! 

The  hovering,  menacing  storm  came  down.     Out 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         345 

of  the  south  it  descended.  The  soft  and  purring 
south  had  waked  to  tiger  fierceness.  The  primeval 
forest  roared  defiance,  and  the  fight  was  on! 

Out  from  a  dense  group  of  the  battling  giants, 
away  from  the  sheltering  trunk  to  which  it  had 
clung,  a  slight  figure  sprang — staggered,  and  recov 
ered  again — and  then,  heedless  of  falling  boughs, 
heedless  of  the  lick  of  the  forked  tongues  of  fire 
across  the  black  sky,  went  running  down  the  wind. 

Welchel  Dale's  spirit  was  abroad  in  the  storm! 

But  only  for  a  short  space  was  that  phantom-like 
figure  swept  before  the  wind.  The  time  came  when 
the  opposing  hill  had  to  be  breasted,  and,  with  it,  a 
flanking  movement  of  the  blast  that  was  now  coming 
cold  down  the  narrow  trough  between  the  mountains. 
There  came  a  time  when  the  open  roadway  had  to  be 
abandoned  for  a  pathless  route  through  the  crashing 
forest  where  there  was  nothing  to  point  the  way  but 
the  instinct  of  the  woman  of  the  hills  and — the  white 
lightning! 

Alive,  awake  at  last!  Oh,  the  fierce  joy,  the  fierce 
pain  of  it!  Oh,  the  wild  ecstasy  of  heroic  suffering — 
now,  now  that  the  storm  had  come  down! 

Blown  panting  against  a  jagged  rail  fence  among  a 
tangle  of  blackberry  bushes  one  minute,  clinging  to  a 
young  sapling  and  bending  with  it  against  a  sudden 
blast  at  another,  or  prone  on  the  ground  with  her 
ear  to  the  trembling  earth,  the  girl  was  fightingly 
awake. 

She,  Mary  Elizabeth,  could  save  him!  She  could 
save  him! 

A  sudden  gust  swept  her  against  a  huge  bowlder 


346        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

and  pinioned  her  to  it,  but  she  only  lay  against  it, 
lithe  and  ready  to  attack  again. 

Oh,  those  hours  of  death  in  life,  where  now  was 
their  cruel  significance — now  that  the  storm  had  come 
down?  As  light  as  the  pine  needles  now  flying  before 
the  wind  those  petty  indignities,  those  petty  slanders, 
had  been  swept  away  by  a  descending  storm  that 
stripped  truth  to  a  naked  cruelty  and  left  only  the 
great  primal  facts  of  life  to  survive. 

They  were  going  to  murder  John  Marshall!  And 
the  girl  flung  herself  against  the  blast  again. 

For  a  hundred  yards,  perhaps,  she  prevailed,  and 
then  a  sudden  gust  caught  her,  twisted  her  around, 
and  flung  her  face  downward  among  a  wreck  of  shiv 
ered  boughs  whose  sharp  projections  tore  her  tender 
flesh. 

They  were  going  to  murder  John  Marshall!  But 
she  could  creep  to  him — creep  to  him  on  her  hands 
and  knees,  even  in  the  face  of  the  wind.  But  it  was 
hard,  desperately  hard,  and  the  wind  must  perforce 
have  conquered  if  the  great  raindrops  had  not  come 
to  the  rescue. 

She  could  stand  upright  now,  for  it  was  rain  against 
wind,  and  she  was  forgotten  in  that  mightier  struggle. 
But  the  rain  brought  hail — a  fierce,  cold,  pounding 
hail — that  beat  on  her  bowed  head  and  arms  till  she 
cried  out  with  the  pain  of  it.  But 

They  were  going  to  murder  John  Marshall!  And 
she  struggled  on. 

John  Marshall  flung  another  log  on  his  fire  and  sat 
down  again  to  listen  to  the  storm. 


347 

Heavens!  but  it  was  coming  fast  and  furious  now! 
It  must  be  tearing  those  trees  limb  from  limb;  but 
they  were  dying  hard,  for  the  deep1  and  sullen  roar 
which  they  sent  up  was  of  the  death  struggle  of  all 
wild  things  that  fight  to  the  last. 

What  a  night  to  be  out  in ! — and  he  punched  up  the 
fire  again. 

Magazines  and  papers  had  been  pushed  aside. 
His  pipe  lay  unlighted  at  his  elbow.  Somehow,  he 
could  not  get  down  to  reading  to-night.  His  brain 
was  on  fire  with  what  he  sighted  beyond:  The  dream 
city  yonder  on  the  plains — the  forge  of  another  Vul 
can — and  here,  his  mountain  lake,  his  source  of  in 
exhaustible  power  and  future  setting  for  costly  sum 
mer  homes  and  club-houses  for  those  who  could  pay 
his  price. 

He  had  conquered — he  was  lord  of  all  he  surveyed ! 
He  had  won  out  against  the  cataclysm  of  opposing 
odds.  He  could  now  push  to  a  finish  his  demonstra 
tion  to  the  man  within  him — he  could  do  great  things 
as  well  as  dream  them!  But 

The  girl  in  the  firelight  there,  what  did  it  mean  for 
her? 

And  when,  in  all  the  bitter  season  now  almost  past, 
did  the  draughts  through  the  crannies  of  this  cursed 
den  ever  run  so  cold?  The  haunted  house ! — haunted 
by  a  something  that  shadowed  the  last  of  its  race ! 

Hail,  now!  And  heavy  lightning,  and  ripping 
winds  again! 

Was  she  afraid  to-night? 

John  Marshall  stood  up  uneasily  and  looked  about 


348        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

him.  Something  was  getting  on  his  nerves.  Was  it 
that  this  weird  and  uncanny  roost  he  had  seized  on 
was  at  last  fastening  its  influence  on  him,  or  was  it 
the  wild  night — or  both?  Somehow  the  wind  went 
through  him  to  the  marrow  to-night,  and  the  cry  of 
the  storm  pierced  him  like  a  note  of  human  anguish. 

Was  she  safe  to-night?  Was  she?  She  was  such  a 
frail  little  body — such  a  frail  little  spirit! 

God  knew  that  he  had  done  what  he  could  to  pro 
tect  her!  He  had  tried  to  remove  her  from  the  troub 
les  which  compassed  her  about,  but  she  had  refused 
to  go.  To  save  her  from  persecution,  he  had  offered 
up  for  sacrifice  the  ambitions  of  his  manhood,  but  all 
to  no  avail  for  her.  When  perils  closed  about  him, 
he  had  doggedly  remained  near  her  still  to  protect. 
And  here  he  was,  and  here  he  would  continue  as  long 
as  she  remained — that  much  was  settled ! 

Yes,  the  devil  was  to  pay  with  the  whole  situation, 
but  he  had  scored  one  against  him  yesterday  when  he 
took  the  dilemma  by  the  horns  and  warned  that 
Davis  viper  and  Williams  not  to  raise  a  finger  against 
the  girl. 

That  he  would  have  to  take  these  two  men  in  hand 
before  their  persecution  of  Mary  Elizabeth  should 
culminate  in  their  dismissing  her  from  her  position, 
he  had  realized  ever  since  he  had  known  of  their 
compact;  but  his  unexpected  acquisition  of  the 
Thaggin  farm  had  hastened  the  climax.  The  trade 
accomplished,  it  had  suddenly  been  borne  in  upon 
him  that  the  moment  these  men  should  learn  by  the 
disappearance  of  the  Thaggins  of  his  triumph  over  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        349 

valley,  that  moment  would  their  wrath  break  over 
the  innocent  object  of  their  persecution,  on  account 
of  her  supposed  connection  with  him.  So  he  had  de 
liberately  sought  these  men  in  public  and  put  them 
on  notice.  But  this  forcing  of  the  issue  had  been  at 
greatly  increased  risk  to  himself. 

He  ought  to  have  had  time  to  summon  help  before 
hazarding  general  trouble  with  these  fierce  natives. 
The  Thaggin  farm  was  his  now,  as  so  was  every 
other  foot  of  land  that  he  had  coveted.  It  was  only 
a  question  of  a  few  days  before  he  would  have  here 
some  hundred  men  to  do  his  bidding,  in  face  of  whose 
overpowering  force  the  little  handful  of  hillites  and 
their  petty  hates  would  weigh  as  the  pine  needles 
before  the  wind. 

He  had  had  to  seize  the  Thaggin  farm  when  it  was 
offered,  but  he  had  hoped  that  the  news  of  the  dis 
appearance  of  the  owners  would  not  be  noised  about 
until  he  got  time  to  summon  the  workmen  from 
the  camp.  Still,  in  weighing  the  matter,  he  had 
realized  how  frail  was  such  a  hope,  and  so  he  had 
promptly  delivered  his  ultimatum  to  Williams  and 
Davis.  If  the  Thaggins  should  be  missed  at  once, 
he  had  reasoned,  the  chances  were  that  Bud  Davis 
would  turn  on  Mary  Elizabeth  for  her  suspected 
alliance  with  him  and  drive  her 

God,  what  a  night  to  be  out  in! 

So  he  had  given  Bud  his  warning  in  order  to  fore 
stall  any  act  of  violence  from  him;  but,  as  he  had  said 
to  Babe,  he  was  no  fool — he  knew  what  it  might 
mean  for  himself.  Trav  Williams  and  Bud  Davis, 


350        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

with  a  pack  at  their  heels,  had  set  upon  Welchel  Dale 
in  the  night.  Yes,  he  was  up  against  it. 

And  he  knew  yesterday  that  he  would  be  up 
against  it,  if  he  should  throw  caution  to  the  wind  and 
fling  down  the  gauntlet  to  those  two.  He  really 
ought  to  have  sent  the  boys  at  the  camp  word  by  the 
Thaggins,  but  he  had  not,  and  all  on  account  of  Fred 
Bearing.  Yes,  but  he  had  done  only  the  square  thing 
by  Fred.  If  he  had  sent  word  that  a  crisis  had  come, 
Bearing  would  have  come  to  him — he  knew  it.  But 
Bearing  was  unalterably  opposed  to  his  splendid  proj 
ect,  and  it  would  somehow  have  been  taking  an 
underhold  on  the  fellow  to  allow  obligations  of  friend 
ship  to  mix  him  up  with  the  scheme  in  any  degree. 
Fred  was  leaving  for  home  to-morrow  and  then  he 
could  summon  help  against  any  concerted  attack 
incited  by  Bavis  and  Williams — if  the  morrow  should 
come  for  him. 

And,  added  to  this  unwillingness  to  involve  Bear 
ing  in  a  scheme  to  which  he  was  so  bitterly  opposed, 
was  the  very  flimsy  but  very  human  reason  of  want 
ing  to  be  able  to  drop  in  on  the  boys  Monday  night 
with  the  news  that  the  deeds  to  the  last  necessary 
foot  of  land  had  been  recorded — that  he  had  won  his 
fight  for  mastery,  single-handed.  The  boys  at  the 
camp  had  laughed,  he  hotly  remembered.  So,  he  had 
sent  his  perfectly  non-committal  note  by  the  Thag 
gins,  and  here  he  was! 

But  he  was  not  going  to  be  caught  napping !  The 
haunted  house  presented  impenetrable  walls  of  logs 
to  the  enemy,  and  the  one  small  window  and  two 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        351 

doors  had  been  made  strong  with  iron  hooks  and  bars. 
Besides,  a  repeating  Winchester  and  a  brace  of  good 
pistols  with  plenty  of  cartridges  were  not  to  be  dis 
counted.  He  would  make  a  night  of  it,  and  be  ready 
for  anything  that  should  come. 

But  such  a  night !  Surely  even  Trav  Williams  and 
that  Bud  Davis  would  choose  another  and  more 
clement  night  in  which  to  pay  their  respects  to  him. 
Not  even  they  would  choose  to  face  that  storm. 

It  was  coming  even  fiercer  now,  and  with  rain,  and 
hail — a  pounding,  beating  hail!  Praise  be  to  the 
Lares  and  Penates  of  the  haunted  house  for  their 
shelter  from  this  cruel  night! 

Suddenly,  Marshall  grasped  his  Winchester — a 
knock,  a  very  distinct  knock,  sounded  on  the  door. 

He  waited  some  moments  in  dead  silence,  and  then 
called : 

"Who  is  it?" 

But  only  the  echo  answered  him. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  called  again.  The  wind  replied, 
and  the  beating  hail,  and  under  and  over  and 
through  it  all,  the  roar  of  the  whipped  pines  like  the 
sound  of  many  waters. 

Marshall  retreated  to  the  wall  at  the  side  of  the 
door  where  the  thick  logs  interposed  between  him 
and  whatever  rifle  message  might  shortly  be  sent 
him. 

"Who  is  it?"  he  shouted  for  the  third  time.  But 
still  no  answer  came  to  him  except  from  the  raging 
night. 

With  ear  and  eye  alert  he  watched  for  some  sign  of 


352         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

disturbance  at  the  door,  and  he  moved  closer  and 
looked  at  the  crack  beneath  it  expecting  to  see  the 
muzzle  of  a  rifle,  when — his  eye  fell  upon  something 
that  looked  like  a  wisp  of  hair — long,  dark  hair — 
blowing  through  the  crevice. 

John  Marshall  never  remembered  how  he  got  that 
door  open,  and  never  did  he  forget  the  face  of  the 
unconscious  girl  as  she  lay  on  his  doorstep  with  the 
wind  and  rain  and  hail  beating  down  upon  her. 

The  next  moment,  he  was  holding  her  high  in  his 
arms  and  the  rain  was  swirling  in  on  the  two  of  them 
and  the  lamp  had  been  blown  out. 

It  was  a  quick  struggle  to  shut  and  bar  out  the 
storm  again,  and  then  Marshall  was  down  on  knees 
before  the  glowing  fire  with  his  cold,  wet  little  bur 
den  still  in  his  arms. 

It  was  well  that  there  was  only  the  wild  night  to 
hear  the  torrent  of  wild  things  that  he  said  to  her, 
and  only  the  glowing  firelight  to  see  him  press  his 
tortured  face  to  her  unanswering  heart,  while  he 
called,  again  and  again,  and  all  unconsciously,  on  the 
God  that  even  godless  men  keep  in  the  unexplored 
depths  of  them  for  the  extremities  of  their  need. 

It  might  have  been  only  a  few  moments  or  it  might 
have  been  many  that  he  knelt  there  before  the  fire 
with  the  unconscious  girl  in  his  arms;  but  after  a  time 
he  had  his  answer,  for  a  little  quivering  sigh  was 
slowly  drawn  through  her  lips,  she  turned  her  head 
slightly,  and  then  her  eyelids  trembled  and  opened 
slowly.  John  Marshall's  face  was  very  close  to  hers 
and  her  first  look  was  into  his  eyes. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         353 

He  called  her  by  her  name  with  the  best  show  that 
he  could  put  up  of  calmness,  but  she  did  not  answer. 
She  only  looked  at  him  wonderingly,  then  smiled  a 
slow,  happy,  meaningless  smile,  and  fainted  again. 

Marshall  got  back  his  nerve  somehow,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  had  her  laid  on  a  pile  of  pillows  before 
the  fire  and  was  putting  some  brandy  between  her 
lips. 

When  she  again  opened  her  eyes,  it  was  in  no 
state  of  happy  forgetting,  for  with  the  light  of  con 
sciousness  this  time  came  instant  understanding  and 
instant  terror. 

"Quick,  they  are  coming  to  kill  you!"  she  cried, 
and  she  struggled  to  rise. 

Marshall  caught  her  and  pushed  her  gently  back 
among  the  pillows.  His  face  was  drawn  as  he  asked: 

"But  you,  you!  For  God's  sake,  how  is  it  with 
you?" 

"7?  "  said  the  girl,  wonderingly,  and  then,  as  a  sud 
den  wave  of  memory  brought  back  why  it  was  he 
feared  for  her,  she  exclaimed: 

"Oh,  I  am  all  right — nobody  has 'been  unkind  to 
me.  But  you — they  are  coming  to  kill  you,  I  tell 
you!" 

"Has  Bud  Davis  been  saying  anything  cruel  to 
you?"  he  insisted;  "tell  me  the  truth,"  and  he  be 
came  conscious  for  the  first  time  that  he  was  hold 
ing  her  against  the  pillows  by  both  arms. 

"No,  no,  on  my  honor,  no!  But  they  are  coming 
to-night — Bud  and  Trav  Williams,  and  Ri  Slaton  and 
— and — there  are  seven  of  them.  They  are  coming 


354        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

at  three  o'clock  to-night,  and  they  are  going  to  shoot 
you!  What  time  is  it?  Quick!  What  /iweisit?" 

"Twenty-three  minutes  to  eleven.  Do  be  quiet. 
I  have  nearly  half  the  night  to  get  ready  for  them. 
Lie  still,  child;  don't  you  know  that  you  are  half 
dead!" 

The  girl  sank  back  on  the  pillows  with  something  of 
relief  in  her  eyes  at  the  knowledge  that  the  hour  for 
the  descent  of  the  murderous  crew  was  not  imminent. 

"And  you  came  through  this  storm  to  tell  me! 
You  did  this  for  me.  You  did  this  for  me! "  he  kept 
saying  over  and  over  again,  as  he  busied  himself  in 
spreading  out  her  wet  skirts  before  the  glowing  fire 
and  in  arranging  across  the  pillow  the  mass  of  limp 
dark  hair  that  was  beginning  to  curl  to  life  again  un 
der  the  warmth. 

She  was  lying  partly  on  her  hair,  and  he  tried  to 
lift  her  shoulder  gently  to  free  it,  when  the  girl  cried 
out  in  pain. 

"  What  is  it?  "  he  asked,  startled.  "  Oh,  your  poor 
little  arm  and  shoulder — how  on  earth  did  it  hap 
pen?" 

She  looked  at  the  cause  of  the  man's  deep  concern 
and  saw  that  the  sleeve  and  shoulder  of  her  dress  had 
been  almost  torn  away  and  that  her  white  flesh  was 
streaked  with  blood.  So  much  of  her  little  body 
ached  that  she  had  not  before  realized  how  much 
her  arm  pained  her. 

"I  was  blown  down  on  something  sharp  once,"  she 
answered,  as  she  put  one  hand  up  to  gather  her  torn 
sleeve  together,  and  turned  her  face  away  from  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        355 

sight  of  the  fresh  blood.  "Just  wrap  a  towel  or  some 
thing  about  it,  so  I  can't  see  it,  please — I " 

Marshall  hurriedly  relit  the  lamp  to  examine  the 
arm  by  a  steadier  light  than  the  leaping  fire  afforded, 
and  now  came  back  and  knelt  beside  her. 

"You  must  let  me  see  how  badly  it  is  hurt,"  he 
said  quietly.  "  It's  all  right  for  me  to  do  it ;  take  your 
hand  away,  now.  My — !  The  flesh  is  torn — a  lit 
tle — and  there  are  some  splinters  in  it.  Just  lie  still." 

He  stirred  about  the  room  for  some  minutes  and 
Mary  Elizabeth's  eyes  followed  him  as  he  moved. 
When  he  came  back  to  her  side,  he  had  a  basin  of 
water  with  him  and  a  lot  of  white  things. 

"I  am  going  to  hurt  you  a  little,"  he  said,  still 
steadily,  "but  these  splinters  will  have  to  come  out. 
Then  we'll  bathe  it  with  an  antiseptic  and  bandage 
it  up."  There  was  so  much  of  the  quiet  assurance 
of  the  physician  in  his  tone  that  the  girl  gave  a 
swift,  curious  glance  up  into  his  face.  His  lips  were 
set  tight.  She  glanced  down — the  long,  strong  hands 
that  were  always  so  sure  of  themselves  were  shaking. 
Then  she  shut  her  eyes  again,  and  kept  them  shut 
as  the  man  laid  back  the  tattered  sleeve  and  min 
istered  to  her  wounded  arm  with  infinite  tenderness 
of  touch,  but  with  voice  held  down  to  the  dead  level 
of  the  scientific  while  he  worked. 

And  in  between  the  sharp  pains  that  he  inflicted, 
Mary  Elizabeth  detailed  to  him  the  plot  which  had 
been  burnt  into  her  soul  by  the  white  lightning. 
She  remembered  every  word  that  had  been  spoken, 
and  she  repeated  what  she  had  heard. 


356        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

Once  Marshall  paused  a  moment  for  a  swift,  sure 
glance  into  her  eyes.  It  was  at  the  mention  of  his 
warning  to  the  two  men.  But  the  girl  looked  away 
and  asked: 

"What  did  you  warn  them  about?" 

He  went  back  to  his  bandaging,  but  with  a  quick 
hardening  of  feature  as  he  replied,  briefly : 

"Told  them  to  keep  off  my  preserves." 

The  long  lashes  swept  her  cheeks  suddenly,  but 
he  was  too  busy  to  see. 

When  he  had  fastened  the  last  bandage,  he  gath 
ered  up  the  torn  edges  of  the  dress  sleeve  and  shoul 
der  in  a  business-like  fashion  and,  somehow,  pinned 
them  together  again.  Mary  Elizabeth  was  strug 
gling  to  help  him  now,  and  her  cheeks  were  flaming. 

Then  he  gathered  up  the  white  things  that  were 
left,  together  with  the  basin,  and  carried  them  back  to 
the  mysterious  from  whence  they  had  been  produced. 

The  girl  followed  him  with  her  eyes — quiet  till  he 
began  to  take  down  the  heavy  bar  that  secured  the 
rear  door,  when  she  was  on  her  feet  in  an  instant. 
The  bar  was  a  little  difficult  to  remove,  however,  and 
he  had  not  succeeded  in  lifting  it  from  its  brackets 
before  the  frightened  girl  was  beside  him,  clinging 
to  his  arm. 

"Don't,  don't!"  she  cried.  "Oh,  can't  you  see 
that  you'll  be  offering  yourself  as  a  target?  How  do 
you  know  how  many  others  are  in  this  plot  against 
you?  Don't!" 

"But  I've  got  to  see  if  the  rain  has  stopped,"  he 
protested. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        357 

"What  difference  does  the  rain  make  to  us?" 

"Why — why,  I've  got  to  take  you  home  as  soon 
as  it  holds  up." 

"But- 

"  But  what?  "    He  was  looking  at  her  very  straight. 

"But — I'm  not  going."  Her  hands  had  dropped 
from  his  arm,  but  he  did  not  shift  his  own  position 
a  half-inch.  His  eyes  were  still  on  her  face,  still 
intense. 

"Why  not?"  he  asked  very  quietly. 

"Because" — and  the  girl  slowly  raised  her  head 
and  answered  his  steady  gaze  with  a  gaze  as  steady 
— "because,  if  I  stay  I  can  bring  those  men  to 
their  senses.  I  saved  the  life  of  Ri  Slaton's  sick 
baby  not  long  ago,  and  he  knows  it  and  is  grateful 
to  me;  and  the  two  Slocums,  poor  fellows,  are  both 
of  them  in  love  with  me.  Then  Trav  Williams  and 
Bud  have  confessed  in  my  hearing  to  the  murder  of 
my  father — I  can  hold  that  over  them,  if  persuasion 
fails.  You  must  go — you  must  ride  for  your  life 
to  the  camp,  and  I'll  stay  here  and  turn  them  back 
— or,  even  if  the  worst  comes  to  the  worst,  I  can 
greatly  delay  them  from  following  you." 

"Go,  and  leave  you,  girl?  Did  you  believe  that 
I  would  do  it?" 

He  noticed  that  she  shivered  in  the  draught  from 
around  the  ill-fitting  door,  and  he  left  the  bar  in  its 
place  and  hurried  her  back  to  the  fire. 

"The  sooner  you  get  dry,  the  sooner  I  can  take 
you  back  where  you  belong,"  he  said,  with  a  grim 
touch  of  command  in  his  voice. 


358        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"But  I'm  not  going." 

"Yes,  you  are." 

"Well — if  I  let  you  take  me  back,  will  you  ride 
right  on  to  the  camp?" 

"Mary  Elizabeth,"  he  began  with  tender  impa 
tience,  and  he  took  a  seat  on  the  edge  of  the  table 
and  assumed  an  argumentative  attitude,  "this  is 
one  time  when  you've  got  to  let  me  use  my  own  judg 
ment  without  a  row.  To  begin  with,  Selim  has  been 
wantonly  lamed  by  some  unknown  fiend,  and  Donnie 
is  at  the  camp.  There  is  absolutely  nothing  here 
to  ride  on.  To  end  with,  there  are  reasons — impera 
tive  reasons — why  I  should  remain  here  and  let  the 
inevitable  clash  between  Trav  Williams  and  myself 
come  now.  Bud  Davis  is  out  of  the  question,  but 
Williams  is  a  man,  and  he  and  I  have  got  to  get 
down  to  it,  sooner  or  later. 

"Then,  if  he  attacks  me  here,  I  can  kill  him 
without  getting  into  trouble  over  it.  Of  course,  I 
don't  enjoy  the  idea  of  the  numbers  he  is  plotting 
to  bring  against  me — Why,  child,  don't  you  get 
scared  about  that — the  pioneer  Indian  fighters  never 
had  a  better  block- house  than  this,  and  I've  got 
ammunition  to  burn.  You  see,  as  soon  as  I  get  you 
home " 

"But  I'm  not  going  home.  No,  listen  to  me! 
Let  me  stay  here;  and  when  I  hear  them  coming, 
I'll  go  out  to  meet  them — listen,  I  tell  you,  it's  my 
time  to  talk — I'll  take  a  lantern  along  to  show  them 
who  I  am  so  they  won't  hurt  me.  And  they  won't 
hurt  me,  not  even  Trav  Williams  would  do  that. — 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         359 

Hush,  and  let  me  finish! — I  can  turn  the  Slocums 
back,  and  I  can  turn  Ri  Slaton  back.  Bud  Davis  is 
wildly  afraid  of  my  father's  spirit — I'll  give  him  the 
scare  of  his  life!  And  if  Trav  Williams  is  afraid  of 
the  law,  I'll  scare  him  too.  Don't  you  see  what  a 
help  I'll  be  to  you?" 

' '  God !    But  you  are  precious ! ' ' 

His  eyes  had  deepened  to  intensity  as  the  girl 
kindled  before  him,  and  the  sudden  exclamation 
now  burst  from  him  all  unawares.  The  next  mo 
ment,  however,  he  throttled  the  mood  that  was 
upon  him,  for  the  girl  had  drawn  insensibly  away, 
startled  by  his  vehemence. 

"No,"  he  said,  slowly,  and  he  picked  up  a  maga 
zine  from  the  table  and  idly  opened  it  in  his  attempt 
to  appear  master  of  himself — "it's  a  piece  with 
your  coming  here  to-night,  through  this  storm — this 
wanting  to  stay  and  help  me  fight  it  out.  But  it 
can't  be,  girl,  it  can't  be." 

"It's  going  to  be."  There  was  a  bridled  some 
thing  in  her  voice,  too,  this  time. 

The  man  raised  his  eyes  from  the  book  that  he 
was  fingering  and  looked  steadily  at  her. 

"Mary  Elizabeth,"  he  said,  "there  is  a  reason — 
an  all-conquering  reason — why  you  must  not  be 
found  here  even  in  the  capacity  of  a  messenger  of 
fate.  I'm  going  to  take  you  home." 

"I  know  the  reason,"  she  replied,  "but  it  is  not 
all-conquering." 

The  man's  restless  fingers  stopped  still  with  a  half- 
turned  page  between  them. 


360        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"I  know  the  talk,"  the  girl  continued.  "Uncle 
Beck  told  me — he  told  me  all  about  it.  I  know 
why" — she  was  white  to  her  temples,  but  she  brought 
her  averted  glance  back  to  his  own  burning  gaze — 
"I  know  why  you  let  me  jeopardize  your  dearest 
interests  and  rouse  these  people  against  you.  I 
know  why  you  stayed  here  after  you  thought  you 
had  failed — when  Melissa  Thaggin  refused  to  sign 
those  deeds.  Uncle  Beck  told  me.  He  told  me  all 
about  it.  He  told  me  that  you  told  Babe  to  paint 
you  black  to  the  people,  so  they  would  think  the 
more  of  me  for  what  I  had  done  for  them.  Uncle 
Beck  told  me  that  you  went  to  Trav  Williams  and 
Bud  and  told  them  that  you  were  going  to  kill  them 
on  sight  if  they  made  a  move  against  me.  I  know 
how  you  have" — and  the  long  lashes  swept  her 
cheeks  for  a  moment — "how  you  have  struggled  to 
keep  me  from  hearing;  Babe  told  Uncle  Beck  that 
you  said  it  would — break  my  heart.  But  you  didn't 
know  me.  My  father  could  face  anything  when  he 
saw  his  way.  I  am  his  child." 

"You — knew — all  this?  Then  you  know  what  it 
would  mean  for  you  to  be  found  here  to-night?" 

"Yes,  I  know." 

The  next  instant  he  had  snatched  her  to  his 
breast. 

"Don't!"  she  cried,  struggling  against  his  fierce 
kisses  as  he  bent  her  little  body  back  till  the  lamp 
light  swept  her  white  face — "don't — oh,  don't!  I 
came  here  to-night  because — I — felt  that  I  could 
come!" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        361 

She  staggered  from  the  instant  release  of  his  sup 
porting  arms  and  caught  by  the  big  table.  Marshall 
dropped  into  a  chair  and  covered  his  face  with  his 
hands. 

After  a  long  minute  he  got  up  and  crossed  the 
room  to  the  rear  door  again.  He  unbarred  it  and 
flung  it  open. 

The  girl's  hands  met  in  a  spasmodic  clasp,  but  this 
time  she  did  not  interfere.  She  only  stood  still  till 
he  should  move  again.  And  it  seemed  to  her  an 
unconscionable  time  that  he  stood  there  with  his 
back  to  her  and  his  face  to  the  whipping  winds, 
but  after  that  unmeasured  time  of  fear,  he  closed 
and  barred  the  door  again,  and  came  back  to  the 
fire. 

"The  clouds  are  blacker  than  ever,"  he  said,  as 
he  busied  himself  with  the  fire.  "I  am  afraid 
we'll  have  a  good  little  wait  before  we  can  start 
back." 

"Yes,  we'll  have  a  good  little  wait  before  we  start 
back,"  she  replied. 

Marshall  turned  quickly  from  the  fire: 

"Of  course  you  know  that  you  are  going." 

"No,  I  know  that  I  am  going  to  stay." 

"Mary  Elizabeth,  do  you  really  understand  that 
it  is  your  reputation  which  is  at  stake?  " 

"And  your  life — yes,  I  understand." 

"But  the  stakes  are  not  of  equal  value."  He  was 
as  quiet  now,  as  direct  and  simple  as  herself.  In 
the  face  of  the  fate  overhanging,  the  veneerings  had 
dropped  away  and  the  two  of  them  had  got  down  to 


362         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

essentials.  "The  stakes  are  not  of  equal  value,"  he 
insisted. 

"No,"  she  replied,  "a  man's  life  is  worth  more 
than  a  woman's  reputation." 

"And  where  on  God's  earth  did  you  get  your 
standards?  " 

"Not  from  the  men  about  me;  from  the  woman 
here,"  and  she  laid  her  hand  on  her  breast. 

"The  woman  there,"  he  said,  "the  woman  there, 
Mary  Elizabeth,  is  the  truest  woman  in  the  world, 
but  she  has  lied  to  you!" 

"She  has  told  me  only  what  is  true." 

"Not  when  the  life  is  mine  and  the  reputation 
yours. — Mary,"  he  said,  and  his  bronzed  face  paled 
as  he  said  it,  "you  are  the  only  spotless  thing  that 
has  touched  my  life.  I  will  not  sacrifice  you." 

Suddenly,  a  terrific  crash  of  thunder  shivered  the 
momentary  quiet;  and  then  the  four  winds  of 
heaven  seemed  to  gather  themselves  together  and 
hurl  their  combined  strength  upon  the  haunted 
cabin  in  final  reckoning  of  its  evil  accounts.  The 
heavens  opened  and  the  rains  descended  hi  sheets 
again;  the  thunders  boomed  along  the  sky;  the 
four  winds  of  heaven,  opposed  now  as  to  which 
should  drink  deepest  of  vengeance,  grappled  in  a 
struggle  for  mastery  in  which  the  ghost  trees  that 
sentinelled  the  haunted  ground  were  torn  from  their 
stiff,  dead  hold  upon  the  accursed  earth  and  flung 
prone  upon  it,  or  left  naked  of  whatever  stark  limbs 
they  dared  to  oppose  to  the  avenging  winds  of 
heaven. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        363 

The  man  and  the  girl  looked  at  each  other — a  long 
understanding  look — and  then  they  returned — he 
with  heaving  breast  to  the  glow  of  the  red  fire — she, 
with  eyes  dark  with  mystery,  to  the  spirit  of  the 
storm. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

ANOTHER  rending,  shivering  blast  tore  its  way 
through  the  dead  forest,  and  the  man  turned  to  the 
woman  who  had  come  to  him  through  the  storm. 

Her  head  was  up,  and  her  dark,  limp  locks  were 
flung  back.  She  was  looking  away,  through  the  near 
and  visible,  to  the  distant  unseen. 

"What  are  you  thinking  about?"  he  asked. 

"That!" 

"The  storm?" 

"Yes— storm." 

The  man  shifted  his  position  a  little  uneasily  but 
his  eyes  were  still  upon  her,  trying  to  read  through 
the  slightly  averted  face  what  lay  beneath. 

"It's  like  that,"  he  said,  "the  breaking  down  and 
tearing  away  of  old  dead  and  useless  things  by  the 
onward  sweep  of  progress.  It  always  seems  cruel 
and  terrible,  but  old  things  must  go  down." 

"Old  loves — old  faiths?"  she  breathed. 

"Yes,  and  resisting  longest,  old  hates,"  the  man 
replied. 

"'The  right  of  the  strongest'!" 

John  Marshall  got  up  restlessly  and  changed  the 
position  of  his  chair,  but  the  girl  turned  a  little  away 
from  the  new  view  he  commanded  of  her  face. 
It  was  as  if  she  were  to  be  forever  a  little  beyond  his 
understanding. 

364 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        365 

"Why,  yes,"  he  said.  "The  strongest  must  pre 
vail.  It  is  that  way  in  nature.  And  it  is  that  way 
in  society — even  all  government  is,  in  the  last  analy 
sis,  by  the  right  of  the  strongest. — Progress,"  he  con 
tinued,  after  a  moment's  pause  in  which  the  sound  of 
dead  things'  being  swept  before  the  blast  filled  up  the 
interlude — "progress  is  often  accompanied  by  seem 
ing  cruelty,  but  since  it  is  progress — that  must  be  the 
justification  of  its  agent." 

The  girl  turned  to  him. 

"That,"  she  said,  "is  one  of  your  mistakes.  God 
used  Pharaoh  to  punish  the  Children  of  Israel  to  their 
ultimate  good,  but  He  did  not  justify  Pharaoh." 

"Isn't  it  hitting  below  the  belt  to  quote  Scripture 
to  a  man  who  does  not  subscribe  to  it?" 

The  dark  eyes  fixed  his  own  for  a  moment  of  in 
quiry,  and  then  turned  again  to  the  unseen.  The 
man  experienced  a  curious,  sinking  feeling  of  being 
by  himself,  alone,  unable  to  follow. 

"And  you  are  really  going  to  take  these  people's 
homes  away  from  them?  You  are  really  going  to  do 
this  thing?"  The  desolate  moan  of  a  departing  gust 
interposed  between  question  and  reply. 

"If  you  insist  on  putting  it  that  way — yes." 

"I  have  always  tried  to  believe  that  when  the  test 
came,  you  would  not  do  it." 

The  man  rose  quickly  from  his  chair  and  began 
walking  up  and  down  the  room. 

"Don't  you  see,"  he  urged,  with  the  old  masterful 
finality,  "that  if  land  belongs  to  the  first  who  seizes 
it,  then,  by  the  same  token,  it  will  belong  to  any 


366        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

other  who  can  take  it  for  himself?  In  urging  the 
claims  of  these  people,  you  are  but  justifying  me." 

She  did  not  look  away  as  he  paused  before  her  in 
challenge,  but  she  was  still  immeasurably  removed. 

"I  don't  think  you  have  ever  been  quite  fair  to 
me,"  she  returned  steadily.  "You  have  always  had 
the  intellectual  advantage,  and  you  have  never 
scrupled  to  use  it  against  me.  You,  somehow,  won't 
meet  me  with  my  own  weapons." 

Something  swept  the  old  dominating  self  of  him 
out  of  his  strong  face  as  he  answered: 

"Mary  Elizabeth,  you'll  have  to  remember  that  I 
have  never  known  you  before  to-night — that  I  do 
not  know  you  now.  Speak  to  me  in  terms  of  your 
self,  and  let  me  try  to  understand." 

The  look  with  which  she  answered  reached  out  to 
him  across  the  space  between. 

"Why,"  she  replied,  "this  thing  that  you  have 
wrought  here  is  a  tragedy  as  big  as  the  human  heart 
is  big.  Ultimate  good — even  if  ultimate  good  had 
been  your  motive — could  not  justify  or  excuse  it. 
Progress  is  not  something  to  be  forced  down  the 
throat  of  a  people,  it  is  something  that  must  develop 
from  within  them.  Yes,  I  know — the  stimulus  often 
comes  from  without,  but  it  should  come  as  a  stimulus 
only,  and  not  as  a  destroying  force  that  outrages  the 
traditions  of  a  people  and  leaves  scars  that  never 
heal." 

She  paused  for  his  reply,  but  he  only  said:  "Go 
on." 

The  furious  night  interposed,  and  for  a  space  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        367 

girl  listened  with  head  up  and  lips  apart.  The  man 
was  studying  her  face  when  she  turned  to  him  again. 

"And  it  is  not,"  she  said,  "as  if  this  project  of 
yours  were  their  one  and  only  chance.  Others  would 
have  come,  not  to  violate,  to  destroy — but  to  inspire. 
Oh,"  she  cried  in  sudden  passionate  appeal  to  him, 
"it  is  not  just  these  few  little  mountain  acres  that 
are  in  contest — it's  what  they  stand  for!  You 
know — you  must  feel  what  it  would  mean  to  take  the 
fight  out  of  a  man,  to — to  show  him  up  to  himself  as 
incapable  of  defending,  of  proving,  of  justifying,  that 
which  is  in  the  deepest  sense,  himself.  You  must 
know!" 

The  man  suddenly  put  up  his  hand  in  a  gesture  of 
defence: 

"I  don't  believe  that  it  goes  that  deep  with  them," 
he  protested. 

"You  know  Babe  Davis?  You  know  the  man  hi 
him?  This  thing  that  you  have  done  is  going  to 
destroy  him!  It  makes  little  difference  now  how 
Babe  got  his  pitiful  little  plot  of  ground,  his  crude 
traditions.  The  only  thing  that  signifies  now  is, 
shall  he  keep  inviolate  that  which  stands  for  the 
achievements  of  his  fathers?  Shall  his  ideals  be  left 
to  him?" 

"'Ideals,'"  protested  the  man,  "ideals  themselves 
are  subject  to  change.  How  else  could  we  progress?  " 

"To  change,  yes,  but  not  to  annihilation.  Even 
poor  Babe  could  change  from  within — he  has 
changed,  grown,  for  your  sake  and  for  mine." 

"Don't!" 


368        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"Oh,  you  don't  like  my  weapons?  Well,  you  are 
going  to  show  Babe  up  to  himself  in  his  pitiful  inad 
equacy.  You  are  going  to  violate  before  his  eyes 
the  temples  of  his  faith  and  show  him  how  powerless 
he  is  to  defend  them." 

"But,  Mary,  I — I  have  long  determined  to  make  it 
all  right  with  Babe.  I" — somehow  his  voice  lacked 
the  assurance  that  usually  characterized  it — "I  have 
always  intended  to  make  him  indepen — "  the  girl 
smiled  bitterly  and  the  man  hastened  to  correct,  "I 
have  always  meant  to  give  him — to  pay  him  for 
what  he  lost  through  me." 

"Do  you  know  of  any  largess  that  would  repay  a 
man  for  the  right  to  be  a  man?" 

"But — you  put  things  so  cruelly.  I'm  not  deny 
ing  to  Babe  Davis  the  right  to " 

"Doesn't  every  man  have  the  right  to  be  a  man  in 
his  own  way?  On  his  own  plane?  " 

"Every  man  but  myself,"  he  replied,  with  sudden 
bitterness. 

There  was  again  the  note  of  human  anguish  in  the 
cry  of  the  storm  outside,  and  the  next  moment  the 
girl  was  clinging  to  his  arm. 

"Say  that  you  did  it  for  their  sakes  as  well  as  for 
your  own,"  she  pleaded.  "Say  that  you  took  this 
step  with  their  best  good  at  heart!" 

White  to  the  temples,  the  man  shrank  under  her 
dinging  touch,  but  he  looked  straight  into  her 
eyes. 

"I  will  not,  I  will  not  lie  to  you,"  he  protested. 

"Then — then" — her  tight  little  hands  would  not 

• 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         369 

be  shaken  off,  and  she  held  his  gaze  by  the  power  of 
her  own — "then  give  it  up!" 

"Nof* 

"Yes." 

"I  cannot." 

"  Give  it  up  for  my  sake." 

"No,  not  for  your  sake. — Mary,  listen  to  me.  My 
word  is  pledged,  my  business  integrity  is  at  stake.  I 
have  borrowed  thousands  of  dollars  for  which  I  could 
give  no  security  except  my  word.  This  deal  for  gov 
ernment  lands  I  had  to  put  through  by  myself,  be 
cause  I  was  obliged  to  swear  that  there  was  no  com 
pany  of  men  to  be  benefited  by  the  use  of  the  lands. 
It  was  a  case  of  colossal  daring.  I  had  to  own  the 
whole  scheme.  Yesterday,  I  needed  an  immense  sum 
for  the  project  down  yonder  to  keep  it  from  going 
under.  I  wired  to  two  friends  of  mine  for  financial 
backing,  offering  nothing  but  my  word  as  security. 
They  came  to  my  rescue  and  saved  the  scheme.  It 
will  take  the  success  of  this  project  here  to  meet 
the  obligations  that  I  have  incurred. — Don't  you 
see " 

"  I  see  " — slowly — "  that  it  has  become  a  choice  be 
tween  injustice  to  the  rich  and  injustice  to  the  poor." 

He  was  still  looking  straight  into  her  eyes.  "I 
can't  hope  to  make  you  understand,"  he  said,  with 
despairing  impatience,  "that  on  the  one  side  there  is 
no  legitimate  claim  to  the  property  involved.  But 
you  will  know  what  I  mean  when  I  say  that  my  word 
is  given." 

"But,"  urged  the  girl,  and  her  slight  hands  felt  the 

vv 


370        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

tightening  of  the  muscles  in  the  arm  to  which  she  still 
clung — "but,  when  the  choice  is  between  faith  to 
one's  word  and  faith  to  an  eternal  principle — what 
then?" 

"Few  men  are  sure  of  'eternal  principles.'  It  has 
to  suffice  for  most  of  us  to  keep  the  faith  we  pledge." 

Suddenly  the  little  clinging  hands  were  laid  hard 
against  the  man's  heaving  breast  and  the  eyes  dark 
with  mystery  were  holding  his  own  to  themselves. 

"If  you  love  me,  you'll  give  this  up,"  she  said. 

"If  I  love  you,  I'll  break  my  word?" 

"Yes,  if  you  put  it  that  way." 

The  man  looked  into  her  eyes  for  a  full  minute,  and 
then  deliberately  took  her  hands  from  his  breast  and 
put  them  from  him. 

"Then  I  don't  love  you,"  he  said. 

A  loud  knock  at  the  door  went  through  the  two 
of  them  like  an  electric  shock,  and  the  man  wheeled 
and  faced  the  direction  from  which  the  summons 
came.  The  girl  was  beside  him  in  an  instant,  but  he 
caught  her  by  her  two  arms  and  hurried  her  to  the 
side  wall  out  of  gun-shot  range. 

"Who  is  it?  "he  called. 

"Babe  Davis." 

The  two  looked  at  each  other.  It  was  Babe  Da- 
vis's  voice  that  had  answered,  unmistakably. 

Marshall  sprang  to  the  door  to  open  it,  and  Mary 
Elizabeth  leaned  back  against  the  wall,  weak  with 
the  sudden  release  to  her  taut  nerves.  The  great 
iron  bar  was  quickly  removed  and  the  door  flung 
open.  Sure  enough,  there,  silhouetted  against  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        371 

outer  blackness,  stood  Babe  Davis,  towering,  gaunt, 
and  wet  to  the  bone. 

Marshall's  hand  was  stretched  out  instantly. 

"Come  in,  Babe,  come  in!"  he  exclaimed. 

But  Babe  Davis  swept  aside  the  hand  that  was  held 
out  in  welcome  and  strode  past  Marshall  into  the 
room.  His  back  was  to  the  girl,  who  now  stood 
speechless  with  wonder,  as  he  turned  and  waited  in 
grim  silence  while  Marshall  re-barred  the  door. 

It  was  the  work  of  a  minute  to  replace  the  great 
bar  in  its  brackets,  and  then  Marshall  came  directly 
up  to  the  man  who  had  entered,  saying  steadily,  and 
not  unkindly: 

"Well,  what  is  it,  Babe?" 

"You  an'  me  have  got  to  have  it  out  to-night!" 
said  the  hillite. 

"Oh,"  exclaimed  Marshall — and  the  girl  who  was 
watching  his  face  suddenly  feared  him  to  her  very 
marrow — "  so  you,  too,  are  in  this  murderous  scheme 
against  me!  You  constituted  yourself  their  enter 
ing  wedge  because  you  knew  that  I  trusted  you! 
You'll— 

A  sudden  commanding  gesture  of  a  gaunt,  brown 
hand  stopped  him  with  his  sentence  unfinished. 

"No,  I  ain't  in  with  Trav  Williams  an'  them.  I 
wouldn't  go  in  with  'em.  But  I've  said  two  things, 
stranger,  that  I'm  here  to  make  good.  I've  said  that 
I  ain't  a-goin'  to  see  you  shot  down  'thout  a  chance 
to  defend  yourse'f.  So  take  notice:  the  crowd's 
a-comin'  fur  you  before  daylight.  An'  while  they're 
plannin'  to  call  you  outen  bed  an'  shoot  you,  you  kin 


372         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

bet  they  will  be  ready  to  change  their  programme  to 
suit  any  siterwation  they  find.  An'  further,  stranger, 
I've  said  you  wa'n't  a-goin'  to  take  a  foot  o'  my 
father's  land  away  from  me  while  I  lived.  You  didn't 
b'lieve  me  'bout  the  land,  stranger,  b'cause  I  didn't 
cuss  an'  bluster  when  I  said  hit;  but  I  meant  hit  jes 
the  same.  Now  will  you  give  up  this  land-grabbin' 
projec'  an'  leave  these  parts  fur  good?  " 

"I  will  not!" 

With  a  steadiness  of  nerve  that  had  in  it  a  sugges 
tion  of  fate,  the  mountaineer  laid  two  long  knives  on 
the  table  before  him.  "Then  take  your  choice, 
stranger.  We'll  settle  this  thing,  man  to  man,  fair 
an'  square,  before  the  others  git  here.  Ef  you  kin 
kill  me,  you'll  have  time  to  light  out." 

The  girl  in  the  background  stole  silently  forward. 
She  was  enveloped  in  shadow — the  shadow  that 
towered  behind  the  mountaineer,  reflecting  more 
nearly  the  bigness  of  his  spirit  than  it  did  the  gaunt 
proportions  of  the  grotesque  figure.  In  one  of  those 
moments  of  instantaneous  photographic  impression, 
Marshall  felt  that  she  was  at  one  with  the  man 
of  her  people — that  she,  too,  was  challenging.  He 
gave  one  quick,  comprehending  glance  at  her  over 
the  other  man's  shoulder,  then  folded  his  arms  and 
addressed  himself  to  the  man: 

"  Davis,"  he  said  quietly,  "  I  shall  enjoy,  in  a 
way,  the  chance  to  settle  with  Trav  Williams  and 
your  brother,  but  I  have  no  intention  of  fighting 
you.  No,  you  are  mistaken  there!  The  fact  of  the 
Business  is,  I  have  had  first-class  athletic  training, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        373 

and  I'd  have  every  advantage  of  you.  Listen  a  mo 
ment:  I  have  always  liked  and  respected  you  for 
giving  me  my  orders  about  Mary  Elizabeth.  I  have 
honored  and  trusted  you  for  your  faith  in  her  and 
your  goodness  to  her.  For  this  I  want  to  be  friends 
with  you." 

The  mountaineer  before  him  and  the  woman  in 
the  shadow  that  he  cast  did  not  move  a  hair's 
breadth,  and  John  Marshall  continued:  "Through 
the  carelessness  of  your  forefathers  you  have  been 
worked  a  great  injustice.  I  am  the  direct  agent  of 
that  injustice,  and  I'm  sorry  that  it  had  to  be  so. 
If  you  will  be  friends,  I'll  promise  to  set  you  up  in 
life,  ten  times  more  comfortable  than  you  have  ever 
been- 

Again  the  gaunt  brown  hand  went  up : 

"Never  mind  'bout  what  you  air  a-goin'  to  give 
me,  stranger,  for  I'm  not  acceptin'  of  charity.  The 
question  between  us  is,  air  you  a-goin'  to  try  to 
take  my  land?" 

The  girl  in  the  shadow  started  silently  as  John 
Marshall, with  subtly  changed  face,  answered,  grimly: 

"I  have  already  taken  it." 

"Then  pick  up  one  o'  them  thar  knives." 

"I'll  not  do  it." 

"Pick  hit  up!" 

"No." 

"Then,  by  God,  I'll  make  you  glad  to!"  The 
infuriated  hillite  caught  up  the  nearest  weapon  and 
drew  back  with  it,  but  his  right  arm  was  seized  from 
behind  by  the  woman  in  the  shadow,  Not  by  main 


374        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

strength  did  she  detain  him,  but  by  the  sheer  sur 
prise  of  the  move. 

He  turned  and  looked  into  her  face: 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  you— here!" 

The  girl  was  looking  up  into  his  eyes — appeal 
ing  first,  then  frightened,  then  with  sudden  heart 
break. 

"Oh,  Babe,  you  too!"  she  cried,  dropping  her  face 
on  the  hands  with  which  she  still  restrained  him. 

All  the  hate  of  which  his  race  was  capable  gath 
ered  hi  the  dark  face  of  the  man  as  he  looked  for  one 
moment  on  the  bowed  head  of  the  girl.  In  another 
instant,  however,  his  wrath  broke,  and  he  flung  her 
from  him  with  an  oath. 

John  Marshall  caught  and  steadied  her  and  was  at 
the  mountaineer  so  quickly  that  the  actions  seemed 
from  one  impulse.  The  next  thing  the  sinewy  native 
knew,  his  arms  were  pinioned  in  a  strange  new 
fashion,  and  he  was  as  helpless  as  a  child,  in  the 
hands  of  his  captor. 

"It's  no  test  of  which  of  us  is  the  better  man, 
Babe,"  Marshall  panted;  "it's  a  trick  learned  from 
the  Japs.  Now,  keep  your  temper  and  listen. — 
She's  worth  sacrificing  for  yet.  It's  a  lie — what  you 
thought  then — she  came  here  through  the  storm 
to  warn  me  because  she  overheard  their  plan  to 
shoot  me  without  giving  me  a  dog's  chance;  and 
she  came  knowing  what  they  would  think  about  her 
if  they  found  her  here — but  she  never  could  have 
dreamed  that  you,  Babe — that  you  would  misjudge 
her." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        375 

The  girl  sank  to  the  floor,  and  the  next  moment, 
the  two  men  were  kneeling  beside  her. 

"Ma'y  'Lizbeth — honey — "  one  of  them  was  say 
ing  tenderly,  when  all  suddenly — the  night  was  filled 
with  voices — voices  calling,  voices  hallooing,  voices 
cursing! 

For  one  moment  of  stunned  silence  the  two  men 
looked  at  each  other  across  the  half-fainting  girl,  and 
then  one  of  them  whispered,  hoarsely: 

"Tell  'em  I  fetched  her  here  to  try  to  git  you  to 
give  up" — and  then — "You  kin  fight  hit  out  with 
them  now;  I'll  not  jump  on  you  with  the  whole 
crew  agin  you." 

"Then  take  care  of  her,"  and  he  sprang  for  his  gun. 

A  rifle-ball  stung  its  way  through  the  front  door 
and  buried  itself  in  a  log  of  the  wall  beyond.  Mar 
shall  quickly  turned  out  the  lamp,  but  a  fitful  blaze 
flared  from  the  end  of  a  glowing  hickory  chunk, 
threatening  to  play  traitor  to  the  stronghold. 

At  the  sharp  ring  of  the  missile,  the  girl  was  on 
her  feet,  and  before  the  dull  Babe  could  realize  what 
she  was  doing,  she  had  darted  to  the  centre  table, 
snatched  up  a  pistol,  and  was  beside  John  Marshall, 
ready  for  fight. 

But  with  one  movement  of  his  arm  he  swept  her 
behind  him.  "Babe!"  he  called  desperately,  as  an 
other  and  another  rifle-ball  cut  through  the  thick 
planks  of  the  door  at  different  angles. 

The  hillite,  awake  to  the  situation  now,  needed  no 
further  summons;  and  when  the  girl  protested,  he 
picked  her  up  bodily  and  carried  her  to  the  deep 


376        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

recess  between  the  front  wall  of  the  cabin  and  the 
huge  log-and-mud  chimney  that  extended  into  the 
room  five  or  six  feet.  Here,  for  the  time,  she  was 
reasonably  safe,  for  the  wall  opposite  the  chimney 
was  unbroken  by  aperture. 

John  Marshall  was  at  work  now.  Three  rapid- 
fire  shots  from  his  Winchester,  through  an  aperture 
in  the  door  attacked,  silenced  for  a  moment  the  bat 
teries  in  front;  and  he  sprang  to  the  door  at  the  rear 
and  sent  a  singing  message  through,  only  to  re 
turn  as  quickly  to  the  front  where  the  firing  had 
recommenced. 

He  calculated  by  the  crack  of  their  rifles  that  the 
stormers  were  some  distance  from  the  house,  and  he 
knew  that  he  must  keep  them  at  a  distance — that 
the  moment  the  muzzles  of  their  guns  could  be 
placed  against  the  crevices  of  the  doors  it  would  be 
all  up  with  him.  If  only  the  room  were  hi  black 
darkness ! 

The  girl,  detained  in  her  place  of  safety  by  sheer 
force,  was  now  almost  frantic. 

"Babe,  Babe,"  she  begged,  "help  him — for  God's 
sake,  help  him — for  my  sake,  Babe!  There's  a  gun 
over  there  in  the  corner — get  it  and  shoot!  I  swear 
I'll  stay  here  if  you  only  will — Horrors,  how  they 
are  firing! — Babe " 

But  the  erstwhile  gentle,  docile  creature  of  her 
leading  turned  on  her  with  savage  vehemence : 

"No,"  he  blazed,  "no!" 

"Then  let  me  go!"  cried  the  girl;  "let  me  fight 
beside  him! " 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         377 

This  time  the  man's  powerful  arm  pinioned  her 
against  the  wall. 

"Fight  your  own  kind  for  him? — for  him  that's 
robbed  'em? — By  God,  you  won't!  You'll  stand 
right  here  and  see  him  take  his  medicine ! — I've  done 
give  him  his  chance." 

Mary  Elizabeth  cast  a  despairing  look  at  the  man 
who  was  waging  single-handed  his  losing  fight  with 
death.  He  had  stopped  to  reload  now;  the  sweat 
was  streaming  down  his  face.  The  grim  lines  about 
his  mouth,  the  quick,  sharp  movements  as  he  re 
turned  fire  or  threw  in  the  shells,  spoke  not  less 
eloquently  than  did  the  sinister  patter  of  lead  against 
the  front  wall  and  splintering  door,  how  desperate 
were  the  straits  of  the  cabin's  sole  defender. 

Hugging  the  wall  as  best  he  might,  but  still  dan 
gerously  exposed,  Marshall  once  more  half-emptied 
his  magazine  of  bullets,  firing  into  the  outer  black 
ness  in  directions  fancied  to  correspond  with  the 
latest  flashes  from  tneir  guns,  and  again  the  hostile 
shots  seemed  discharged  from  farther  distance. 

The  girl  covered  her  eyes.  If  only  the  Hearer  of 
Prayer  would  hear!  She  was  ready  to  compromise 
now — to  trade  with  Him  on  any  terms.  But  He  had 
turned  His  face  away — away  from  this  spot  that 
was  haunted  by  the  tragedies  and  the  violence  of  sin. 

A  cessation  of  the  shots  inside;  the  girl  opened  her 
eyes  wildly. 

John  Marshall  was  replenishing  his  magazine.  As 
he  stood  facing  the  fireplace,  the  blaze  of  the  hickory 
log  seemed  bent  on  having  a  critical  view  of  him 


378        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

and  shone  vividly  in  the  cabin  for  a  brief  moment. 
Something  red  was  dyeing  his  shirt-sleeve  in  spots! 
The  spots  were  widening! 

The  mountaineer  caught  the  girl  in  the  wild  dash 
that  she  tried  to  make,  and,  heedless  of  the  pitiful 
cry  she  uttered,  forced  her  back  to  the  sheltered 
corner. 

"Let  him  take  his  medicine,"  he  hissed. 

But  Marshall  had  heard,  and,  dropping  his  rifle 
on  the  table,  was  at  her  side  in  an  instant. 

"Mary,  are  you  hurt?    Are  you  hurt?" 

It  was  with  the  loss  of  an  all-important  moment 
that  he  stopped  to  be  reassured  of  her  safety,  for 
while  he  yet  paused  beside  her,  frightened,  unbeliev 
ing,  the  crisis  came.  One  terrific  crash  against  the 
timbers  of  the  rear  door  shook  the  very  rafters  of  the 
cabin,  bending  the  bar-brackets  and  bursting  the 
hinges  from  the  door. 

Marshall  sprang  to  regain  his  rifle,  but  it  was  too 
late.  The  shattered  door  was  thrown  down  across 
his  way,  and  he  was  facing  a  half-dozen  gun-barrels, 
while  swarming,  vengeance-seeking  natives  were 
pressing  into  the  room  to  witness  a  finale  delayed  for 
their  gloating  enjoyment. 

With  the  falling  apart  of  a  big  log  in  the  fireplace, 
the  flames  leapt  high,  repeating  themselves  in  weird 
and  fantastic  fitfulness  on  the  cold  steel  of  the  level 
guns,  and  in  the  veiled  glitter  of  the  eyes  of  a  man 
who  stood  slightly  apart,  but  who,  Marshall  knew 
only  too  well,  was  the  directing  fate  of  that  whole 
grim  company. 


379 

The  next  instant,  something  had  come  between 
John  Marshall  and  death — a  slight,  frail  woman, 
with  arms  stretched  wide  as  if  to  further  shelter 
him,  was  offering  her  own  breast  to  the  threatening 
guns. 

A  big  man  in  the  front  of  the  mob  knocked  up  the 
menacing  rifle-barrels  in  the  same  moment  that 
Marshall  swept  the  girl  aside. 

Then,  somehow,  Babe  Davis,  stunned  and  bewil 
dered  at  the  way  the  girl  had  flashed  away  from  him, 
got  mixed  up  in  the  scene.  The  astonishment  and 
curiosity  created  by  his  presence  and  by  the  presence 
of  the  girl  gave  pause  for  a  moment  to  even  their 
hungry  vengeance. 

In  that  moment  Mary  Elizabeth  was  pleading 
with  the  man  who  had  struck  away  from  her  breast 
the  levelled  guns,  js 

"Ri,  I  gave  your  baby  back  to  you,"  she  panted, 
"the  doctor  said  I  saved  his  life — you  said  you 
would  do  anything  for  me — Ri,  give  me  this  man's 
life!" 

The  room  had  become  strange  with  men  in  whose 
eyes  was  implacable  vengeance,  but  action  was  for 
a  space  delayed.  They  were  men  and  not  demons, 
so  this  woman  had  to  be  dealt  with,  got  out  of  harm's 
way. 

Ri  Slaton  stood  before  the  pleading  girl,  his  big 
chest  heaving,  his  hands  gripping  tight  his  own  rifle- 
stock.  When  she  had  finished  speaking  he  reluc 
tantly  placed  his  gun  against  the  wall  and  folded 
his  arms. 


380        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"I  kin  do  this  much,"  he  said,  "an'  no  more. 
He's  got  to  die." 

It  was  John  Marshall  himself  who  silenced  her — 
taking  her  tight  by  both  arms,  he  turned  to  Babe 
Davis  a  face  in  which  exasperation  and  desperation 
were  strangely  mixed. 

"Babe,"  he  exclaimed,  "Babe,  it  does  look  as  if 
you  could  hold  her !  Take  her  out  of  this,  can't  you? ' ' 
But  he  whispered,  "My  darling"  as  he  forcibly 
consigned  her  to  Babe  Davis's  keeping.  Then  he 
faced  his  enemies. 

"Men,"  he  said,  making  a  play  for  one  last  des 
perate  chance,  "for  you  are  men — I  know  it's  all  up 
with  me,  and  I  accept  the  fact.  You  can  easily 
shoot  me  to  pieces  if  you  choose,  for  I  am  unarmed, 
but  I'm  here  to  tell  you  that  it  would  be  damned 
unsportsmanlike.  Anybody  can  murder  in  cold 
blood,  but  it  takes  a  man  to  kill  like  a  man.  Now, 
come  at  me,  but  come  one  at  a  time.  Let's  be  men 
to  the  last.  There  are  two  knives  there — Babe 
Davis  brought  them  to  have  it  out  with  me,  man  to 
man,  with  no  advantage,  except  that  he  brought  his 
second  with  him."  He  turned  and  looked  deep  into 
the  eyes  of  the  girl  whom  Babe  Davis  was  now  hold 
ing  tightly  by  the  wrists. 

She  was  standing  very  straight — and  tall  for  her— 
and  her  eyes  answered  the  last-stand  courage  of  his 
own.  He  addressed  the  men  again,  who  were  now 
muttering  ominously  among  themselves. 

"Give  me  one  of  those  knives  and  give  one  man 
at  a  time  the  other,  and  we'll  do  this  thing  right." 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        381 

"Hell!"  snarled  Bud  Davis,  "who  ever  heerd  o' 
givin'  a  viper  like  you  a  weepon!  An'  I  ain't  a-goin' 
to  be  chose  for  no  sech  performance.  / " 

"No!"  blazed  Marshall  at  him  so  suddenly  that 
he  jumped  back.  "A  miserable,  cowardly  cur  like 
you  is  not  worth  fighting!  I  want  a  man!" 

Somebody  laughed  a  jeering  laugh,  and  somebody 
else  echoed  it,  and  Bud  Davis  fell  back  in  the  crowd 
with  all  the  demon  in  him  roused  and  ready  for  the 
demoniac. 

"Who  do  you  want?"  Ri  Slaton  asked  the  ques 
tion  rather  in  whimsical  curiosity  than  in  any  spirit 
of  accepting  the  challenger's  audacious  terms. 

"Trav  Williams,"  promptly  replied  Marshall  in 
shrewd  pursuance  of  his  desperate  stratagem.  The 
girl  with  Babe  Davis  caught  her  breath  with  a 
smothered  scream.  There  was  a  ripple  in  the  crowd 
again — this  time  of  sheer  admiration. 

Trav  Williams,  who  had  so  far  held  aloof  like  a 
silent,  overshadowing  fate,  now  laid  his  gun  aside 
and  came  forward  with  a  look  of  self-conscious  pride 
and  satisfaction — he  had  had  the  compliment  of  his 
life.  Between  a  desire  to  demonstrate  how  well  he 
deserved  Marshall's  subtle  praise  and  the  recollection 
that  he  had  not  yet  punished  this  foolhardy  stranger 
for  daring  to  threaten  him,  and  in  the  presence  of  a 
whole  storeful  of  men,  Trav  lost  his  head.  Then, 
too,  the  girl  herself  was  looking  on — the  girl  about 
whom  Marshall  had  dared  to  give  him  orders — and 
the  girl  who  had  interfered  between  him  and  what 
he  most  coveted.  Here  was  a  chance  to  even  up 


382         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

with  the  stranger,  and  to  punish,  more  terribly  than 
in  any  other  way,  that  re-embodied  spirit  of  Welchel 
Dale's  that  had  dared  to  cross  his  path  again  to 
plague  him. 

With  one  long  insolent  look  at  Mary  Elizabeth 
he  came  forward  and  took  his  choice  of  the 
blades. 

"Don't  do  hit,  Trav,"  urged  one  of  the  now  ex 
cited  crowd.  "Le's " 

"Do  you  think  he  can't  hold  his  own?"  asked 
Marshall  with  a  subtle  smile. 

"No,  but,  Trav,  he's  jest  a " 

"Your  friends  seem  to  be  uneasy  about  you,"  said 
Marshall  to  the  now  thoroughly  roused  man  before 
him. 

"Wa-al,  I  ain't  oneasy,"  replied  the  man  grimly, 
and  then  to  the  protesting  crowd:  "Who's  a-runnin' 
this  here  thing,  I'd  like  to  know?  No,  I  don't  need 
your  advice  an'  I  don't  need  your  he'p.  Stand  back, 
boys!"  and  the  crowd  widened. 

The  two  men  grasped  their  weapons  and  stepped 
apart,  but  Marshall  held  up  his  hand  against  the 
signal  to  begin. 

"Men,"  he  said  firmly,  but  pleadingly,  "that  girl 
must  be  taken  out — it's  barbarous  to  let  her  witness 
a  thing  like  this.  Make  her  go!  Pick  her  up  and 
carry  her!" — this  because  he  had  caught  the  defiance 
of  her  glance. 

Two  very  young  fellows  and  Ri  Slaton  moved  to 
ward  her  in  spite  of  a  growl  of  disapproval  from  Trav 
Williams,  but  she  somehow  gave  Babe  the  slip  again, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        383 

and  in  a  twinkling  had  snatched  a  pistol  from  a  near 
by  shelf. 

"Keep  back!"  she  exclaimed.  "Did  Welchel  Dale 
ever  play  the  weakling?" 

The  men  of  her  people  knew  the  type  better  than 
did  Marshall,  and  they  turned  their  attention  again 
to  him. 

"Let  me  put  her  out  that  door,"  he  entreated. 

But  at  a  signal  from  Trav,  Eli  Hawkins  was  al 
ready  counting,  "One,  two— "  and  Marshall  barely 
had  time  to  make  ready  for  the  spring  of  his  adver 
sary  on  the  loud  and  ringing  "three!" 

The  circle  instantly  gave  back.  But  all  that  the 
girl  could  see  was  two  men  locked  together,  so  evenly 
matched,  so  desperately  opposed,  that  they  seemed 
for  a  long  time  scarcely  to  move  at  all,  and  only  the 
initiated  could  have  guessed  at  how  great  a  cost  each 
slight  advance  of  foot  or  hand  was  made,  could  feel 
how  eloquent  of  tremendous  force  was  every  inclina 
tion  backward  or  forward  of  each  powerful  form. 

Suddenly  the  circle  closed  in  hi  breathless  excite 
ment  and  the  girl  could  see  no  more,  but  she  could 
guess  how  the  struggle  went,  by  the  alternate  cursing 
and  cheering  of  the  excited  crowd. 

The  sounds  of  struggle  increased— and  then,  a  ter 
rible,  sickening  fall,  and  savage  cheer  upon  cheer! 
Babe  Davis  clapped  his  big  hand  over  the  girl's  eyes, 
but  there  was  no  need  of  it,  for  her  vision  was  swim 
ming  before  her;  but  still  in  her  ears  were  the  sounds 
of  struggle — terrible,  tense  struggle — this  time  of  two 
bodies  that  were  writhing  upon  the  floor,  and  which 


384        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

was  above  and  which  beneath  she  knew  only  too  well 
by  the  tightness  of  Babe  Davis's  hand  upon  her 
eyes. 

Then  all  suddenly  fell  a  silence — a  silence  more 
terrible  than  any  sound  of  struggle  could  have  been. 
Babe  Davis's  hand  dropped  away. 

The  on-lookers  seemed  petrified  as  they  stood  in 
a  widened  circle  now,  where  all  might  see.  A  man 
lay  on  his  back  with  stark,  wide  eyes  staring  at  the 
shingles  above,  and  another  knelt  above  him  with 
something  red  in  his  weapon  hand.  The  kneeling 
man  raised  his  eyes  slowly 

"Mary,  I  had  to  do  it,"  he  said. 

Then  out  of  the  awed  silence  came  one  clear,  sharp 
sound,  and  John  Marshall  dropped  back,  wide-eyed 
too,  and  staring  at  the  shingles  above. 

"Bud  Davis!  Coward!"  and  Welchel  Dale's  child 
was  beside  the  man  who  had  fallen,  with  her  hand 
over  the  ugly  hole  in  his  breast. 

Then,  amid  the  pandemonium  that  broke  loose, 
Bud  Davis  went  creeping,  creeping  toward  the  girl. 
Evil  epithets  were  pouring  from  his  lips,  his  great  fist 
was  tight  clinched. 

But  he  did  not  reach  her,  for  a  long,  gaunt,  but 
powerful  man  swung  full  upon  him. 

There  were  sounds  of  another  fierce  struggle,  but 
Mary  Elizabeth  did  not  heed  this  time.  Her  ear 
was  laid  to  the  heart  of  the  man  who  was  staring  as 
Trav  Williams  stared — neither  did  she  realize  when 
brother  and  brother,  in  the  death  struggle  together 
because  of  her,  staggered  in  the  blindness  of  their 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         385 

hate,  and  pitched  out  of  the  open  door  to  have  their 
final  reckoning  together  in  outer  darkness. 

Mary  Elizabeth  did  not  heed,  for  her  ear  was  laid 
to  the  heart  of  the  man  who  had  fallen,  and  that 
heart  had  not  answered  her. 

And  then — somehow — nothingness! 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MARY  ELIZABETH  stared  at  the  wall.  It  was  just 
the  inside  of  weather-boarding,  and  was  quite  rough 
— but  it  was  whitewashed — that  was  very  nice. 
But — some  one  was  speaking — speaking — outside. 

"Dead — both  of  them,"  the  voice  said.  " Brothers, 
too,  they  say.  Fought  the  life  out  of  each  other  like 
wild  beasts  there  hi  the  rain  and  dark.  It  would  be 
an  interesting  story  to  know  from  the  beginning." 

Whom  could  he  be  talking  about?  And  whose 
voice  was  it  that  sounded  so  strange?  Mary  Eliza 
beth  sat  up  and  looked  about  her,  wondering.  She 
was  in  a  little  shed-room  somewhere — a  perfectly 
strange  shed-room.  Three  sides  were  roughly  boarded 
up.  To  the  left  was  a  wall  of  logs — the  main  house 
was  on  that  side.  But  what  house?  The  strange 
voice  was  speaking  again :  « 

"Ready,  Felix?  Take  this  and  ride  to  the  cross 
roads  store  that  Mr.  Horton  directed  you  to.  Ask  for 
the  storekeeper  himself,  and  rent  a  team  and  wagon 
from  him  at  any  cost.  Tell  the  old  man  that  John 
Marshall  was  killed  in  an  attack  on  his  cabin  last 
night,  and  that  his  friends  want  to  remove  the  body." 

Mary  Elizabeth  sat  still. 

Primitive  life  lies  ever  close  to  tragedy,  and  primi 
tive  women  have  been  bred  through  the  centuries 

386 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         387 

to  suffer  supremely  and  be  silent.  Mary  Elizabeth 
sat  still.  Yes,  she  remembered,  but  the  wild  agony 
of  it  all  was  past.  Indeed,  this  could  not  be  called 
suffering  at  all — this  dead,  unfeeling  calm. 

So  this  was  the  end,  and  she  was  facing — that 
whitewashed  wall. 

Then,  by  almost  subconscious  movement,  she  was 
straightening  out  her  dark  locks  and  was  braiding 
the  heavy  mass  of  curls  down  her  back.  She  stood 
up — it  took  an  effort  to  do  it,  for  her  limbs  ached 
now,  and  now  the  whitewashed  wall  was  threatening 
to  slip  away.  But,  in  a  moment  or  two  of  steadying, 
things  cleared  for  her,  and  she  turned  to  a  door  that 
she  found,  and  opened  it. 

One  step,  and  she  was  out  on  a  small  back  porch 
and  standing  over  two  strange  men  who  were  seated 
on  the  steps.  In  the  next  instant  they  were  on  their 
feet  facing  her,  and  their  hats  were  quickly  removed 
after  a  manner  that  was  not  of  the  hills.  They  had 
on  big  riding-boots,  she  somehow  took  in,  and  one  of 
them  had  nice  eyes. 

"Why,  why,  you've  come  to  your  sens — you've 
waked  up  at  last,  have  you?"  he  of  the  nice  eyes 
inquired  with  gentle  solicitude.  "I'm  afraid  I  make 
a  poor  sick-nurse  not  to  keep  a  sharper  eye  on  my 
patient." 

"Yes,"  said  the  girl,  in  answer  to  his  question, 
"and  this  house ?" 

"Is  the  haunted  house." 

"Where  is  he?"  she  asked,  and  she  laid  her  hand 
hard  against  the  door  facing. 


388        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"In  here,"  he  replied  in  a  low  tone,  and  he  pointed 
to  a  half -open  door.  "Do  you  want  to  see  him?" 

For  answer  she  followed  him  into  the  darkened 
room.  His  step  was  very  quiet  and  he  held  his  soft 
wool  hat  hi  his  hand  as  he  led  the  way  to  the  bed 
in  the  dim  corner.  The  girl  slipped  past  him  and 
paused  by  the  form  that  was  stretched  out  before 
her.  She  lifted  back  tenderly  a  stray  lock  of  hair 
that  lay  on  the  white  forehead,  when — John  Mar 
shall  turned  his  head  slightly  and  opened  his  eyes 
full  upon  her.  There  was  a  moment  of  dead  pause, 
and  then 

"Is  it  life  or  death  for  me? — say  which,"  he 
whispered. 

The  girl  dropped  on  the  floor  beside  him  with  her 
head  and  arms  on  the  bed.  She  was  sobbing  aloud 
now  from  the  shock  of  too  great  joy,  and  the  wounded 
man  was  struggling  to  quiet  her. 

"I  saw  you  killed  before  my  eyes,"  she  cried  franti 
cally.  "I  saw  Bud  Davis  shoot  you!" 

"John,  Doc  says  you  must  lie  still ! "  The  man  who 
had  entered  with  her  was  speaking  now,  and  with 
authority.  "My  dear  young  lady,  try  to  be  quiet!" 

"You  said  he  was  dead,  yourself,"  she  declared  in 
a  wild  whisper,  while  the  desperately  controlled  sobs 
shook  her  slight  frame.  "I  heard  you  send  word  to 
the  store!" 

"Oh,  did  you  hear  that  ruse!"  exclaimed  the  man. 
"I  sent  that  message  to  keep  off  other  attacks  till 
we  could  get  John  safe  away.  I'm  so  sorry,  I'm 
so  sorry,"  but  stooping  low  over  her  he  whispered: 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         389 

"You  must  control  yourself.  John  is  very  badly 
hurt." 

"Fred  Bearing,"  said  the  wounded  man  in  a  piti 
fully  weak  voice,  "if  you  whisper  to  my  sweetheart 
again,  I'll  get  up  from  here  and  knock  the  top  of 
your  head  off!" 

Between  the  whispered  warning,  Marshall's  at 
tempt  at  lightness,and  her  own  in  herent  heroism, 
the  girl  got  herself  in  hand  again. 

The  threatened  danger  to  the  top  of  his  head,  or 
something  else,  took  Fred  Bearing  over  to  the  mantel 
shelf  and  busied  him  there.  His  back  was  turned 
squarely  to  them  as  John  Marshall  gathered  the 
half-plaited  curls  that  hung  over  the  girl's  shoulder 
and  pulled  her  face  over  very  close  to  his  own. 

"You  haven't  answered  my  question,  yet,"  he 
whispered,  looking  deep  into  her  violet  eyes. 

With  one  swift  glance  at  Bearing's  back,  she 
stooped  and  kissed  him.  And  then  her  soft  cheek 
was  pressed  to  his  own,  and  he  was  whispering  as  he 
held  her  to  him: 

"Life,  girl,  is  so  vastly  bigger  than  any  theory 
of  it!" 

Fred  Bearing  was  back  again  in  a  minute  or  two, 
this  time  looking  rather  grim,  the  girl  thought. 

"John,"  he  said,  and  Mary  Elizabeth  shrank  at 
what  she  felt  was  a  touch  ef  hardness  in  his  voice; 
"John,  Frierly  is  going  to  leave  for  camp  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  I  want  you  to  send  that  order." 

"I'll  not  do  it,"  answered  the  sick  man,  promptly, 
in  a  voice  that  sounded  like  the  ghost  of  his  old  voice 
at  its  hardest. 


3QO        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  man  at  the  foot  of  the  bed  looked  grimmer 
still.  "You  can't  mean  that,"  he  said. 

"Yes,  I  can,  too." 

Mary  Elizabeth  was  bewildered  at  a  steel-like  gaze 
that  was  exchanged  between  them,  and  more  bewil 
dered  still  when  the  man  at  the  foot  of  the  bed 
promptly  turned  and  left  the  room.  On  the  thresh 
old,  however — her  eyes  had  followed  him — he  paused 
and  signalled  for  her  to  follow. 

It  took  something  of  finesse,  and  much  of  shameless 
bribery,  to  enable  her  to  get  away  from  the  sick  man, 
but  Mary  Elizabeth  accomplished  it  at  last  and 
joined  Fred  Bearing  on  the  back  porch.  He  drew 
to  the  door  behind  her. 

"You  don't  know  what  happened  last  night  after 
John  was  shot,  do  you?  You've  been  delirious,  you 
know." 

"No,"  said  the  girl,  and  the  dark' pupils  of  her  eyes 
dilated  suddenly. 

"Well,  about  forty-five  of  us  from  the  camp  got 
here  just  as  John  was  plugged — we  had  been  warned 
of  his  danger  by  a  little  hillite  named  Tony  Thag- 
gin,  and  came  full -armed,  so  we  easily  surrounded 
and  caught  nearly  the  whole  gang.  Of  course  some 
were  wounded  on  both  sides,  but  we  bagged  the  bunch 
at  last.  When  the  fight  was  over,  about  half  of  our 
men  escorted  the  captives  to  camp  with  the  inten 
tion  of  keeping  them  prisoners  there  till  they  could 
be  turned  over  to  the  county  authorities." 

The  girl,  who  had  been  listening  with  wild  eager 
ness,  now  interrupted,  excitedly: 

"And  what — what  will  that  mean?" 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        391 

"The  penitentiary  or  worse,  for  the  last  one  of 
them." 

"No,  oh,  no!"  she  gasped. 

"  You  feel  for  them,  too?"  he  exclaimed,  passion 
ately.  "See  here,  those  poor  devils  were  fighting  for 
what  they  believed  to  be  their  own — but  I  can't  make 
John  see  it  right — I  can't  move  him.  And  he's  so 
sick,  I'm  afraid " 

"Was  that  what  you  and  he  were  talking  about?" 

"Yes,  I've  been  trying  to  make  him  send  an  order 
for  those  fellows  to  be  turned  loose  before  the  sheriff 
and  posse  get  there — his  word  is  law  at  the  camp — 
but  he's  like  flint.  He's— 

The  girl  turned  to  the  door  quickly,  but  the  man 
laid  his  hand  on  her  arm. 

"Are  you  going  to  John  about  it?" 

"Yes." 

"He's  awfully  sick,  you  know — a  doctor  who  came 
with  us  says  it's  a  question — it's  bad  to  stir  him  up, 
but- 

"How  soon  would  this  message  have  to  be  sent  to 
save  them?"  she  asked. 

"Why,  now,  if  at  all." 

The  two  looked  at  each  other  for  a  moment  of 
wavering,  and  then  the  girl  made  the  decision.  She 
opened  the  door  and  re-entered  the  room,  followed 
by  Bearing.  The  young  fellow  whom  she  had  seen 
with  Bearing  when  she  regained  consciousness,  now 
came  up  the  back  steps  and  entered  immediately 
after  them. 

John  Marshall's  dull  eyes  lighted  pitifully  as  the 


392         THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

girl  came  to  him  and  took  her  seat  on  the  edge  of  the 
bed  beside  him. 

"Mr.  Frierly  is  ready  to  go,"  she  said  very  gently. 
"  Have  you  any  message  to  send?  Have  you?  Have 
you?  "  She  was  leaning  over  him  with  her  violet  eyes 
looking  deep  into  his  soul. 

Marshall  started  and  turned  his  head  away. 

"No!"  he  exclaimed,  feebly,  but  passionately. 

"Haven't  you— dear?" 

But  the  hard  look  came  into  his  graying  face  again. 

"Yes,  Frierly,"  he  said,  sharply  and  bitterly,  to 
the  one  who  had  entered  last;  "tell  Horton  to  hold 
those  men " 

But  a  small  firm  hand  was  promptly  laid  over  his 
mouth  and  a  girl's  fearless  eyes  were  challenging 
his  own. 

"You  are  too  weak  to  talk,"  she  said;  "I  am 
'stronger'" — with  an  accent  that  only  he  and  she 
understood.  "Mr.  Frierly,"  looking  up  at  the  man 
who  still  awaited  orders,  "tell  Mr.  Horton  that  Mr. 
Marshall  says  hold  those  men  no  longer — that  they 
are  hardly  to  be  blamed  for  the  step  they  took." 

The  little  hand  was  pressed  suddenly  tighter  over 
the  lips  that  were  touched  with  cruelty.  Fred 
Bearing's  eyes  widened  quickly. 

"Tell  him,"  continued  the  girt,  "that  Mr.  Mar 
shall  says  to  assure  the  prisoners  they  shall  be  paid 
a  handsome  price  for  their  farms,  and  that  no  injus 
tice  or  unkindness  shall  be  done  them.  And  .  .  . 
and  .  .  .  get  them  to  promise  peace." 

Fred  Bearing  was  breathless. 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         393 

Frierly  stood  with  indecision.  He  was  stupid  at 
best,  but  he  had  his  grave  doubts  now. 

The  girl  slowly  removed  her  hand  from  John  Mar 
shall's  mouth,  but  she  still  held  his  eyes  with  her  own. 

"You  are  too  weak  to  talk  much,  just '  yes '  will  do  " 
— and  then  in  a  swift  whisper — "Do  you  love  me?" 

"Yes  I" 

Frierly  departed  with  his  astounding  message,  and 
Fred  Bearing  considerately  followed  him  out  of  the 
room  and  closed  the  door  behind  them. 

One  of  the  men,  who  had  been  doing  picket  duty 
since  the  fracas,  came  up  to  the  steps  for  news. 

"How's  John?"  he  inquired  anxiously. 

"Very  much  better,"  said  Bearing. 

Bearing  and  Frierly  had  been  gone  some  time  and 
John  Marshall  lay  asleep  in  the  quiet  room,  when  the 
front  door  opened  softly,  and  a  long,  loose  figure  was 
silhouetted  in  the  doorway.  There  were  deep 
shadows  in  the  erstwhile  smiling  old  eyes,  but  a  pale 
morning  sunlight  rested  on  the  thin  gray  hair. 

He  looked  from  the  quiet  figure  on  the  bed  to  the 
girl  who  sat  quiet  beside  it.  He  stood  irresolute  till 
she  held  out  her  hand  to  him,  when  he  tip-toed  across 
the  creaking  floor  to  her  side. 

"Honey,"  he  said,  as  his  rough  hands  closed  sym 
pathetically  over  both  her  own,  "honey!" 

"Uncle  Beck,  I  need  you!" 

"I  'lowed  you  did,  Blossom,  that's  why  I  come. 
The  feller  what  brought  me  the  message  said  you 
was  here." 


394        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

"It  has  been  such  an  awful,  awful  night!"  she 
whispered,  and  she  laid  her  white  forehead  down  upon 
the  knotted  old  hands  to  which  she  still  clung. 

"A  awful  night,  honey,  but  the  sun  rose  on  time 
this  mornin' — try  to  believe  that." 

"You  heard?"  she  whispered,  and  her  cold  hands 
tightened  on  his  own  as  if  never  to  let  him  go. 

"I  heerd,  honey." 

"You  know  how  much  there  is  in  him — you  know, 
Uncle  Beck!" 

"Yes,  honey,  I  know  thar  was  a  great  big  man  in 
him." 

"You  saw — you  and  Bitbe  saw — when  even  my 
eyes  were  blinded " 

"You  seen  only  one  thing  at  a  time,  Blossom,  but 
you  ain't  to  blame  for  that — hit's  your  sex  that's  the 
fault  of  hit.  Me  an'  Babe  knowed  thar  was  a  splen 
did  sperit  in  him.  Me  an'  Babe — "  the  old  man 
turned  his  gaze  to  the  long,  straight  form  on  the 
bed,  and  started  violently. 

"Why — why — why — Ma'y  'Lizbeth — is  that  thing 
a-movin'?"  he  exclaimed  in  a  startled  whisper. 

"Yes,  but  he's  sleeping  soundly.  If  we  whisper, 
we'll  not  wake  him." 

"In  the  name  o'  God,  gal,  ain't  he  dead?" 

"Why,  no  indeed,  Uncle  Beck!" — in  a  tone  that 
was,  for  some  unaccountable  reason,  perfectly  in 
dignant,  and  then — "O-o-oh,  I  remember! — the 
message!" 

The  recollection  of  that  message,  as  heard  in  that 
strange,  dim  awakening,  suddenly  overwhelmed  her, 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        395 

and  the  next  moment  she  lay  sobbing  against  the 
old  man's  shoulder  at  the  remembered  agony,  telling 
him,  in  wild  and  broken  whispers,  all  that  she  knew 
of  the  storm  that  had  swept  over,  and  of  the  wreck 
age  that  it  had  left. 

"  Tell  me  that  ag'in,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth" — the  old  man 
was  left  saying  to  her,  and  the  big  hands  that  now 
grasped  both  her  shoulders  were  shaking  as  he  spoke. 
"Tell  me  that  ag'in! —  Them  fellers  was  took  pris 
oner,  and  the  sheriff  an'  his  posse  sont  for — ?" 

"Yes,  but  they  will  be  turned  loose  before  the 
sheriff  gets  there — I  made  him  send  the  order. 
Uncle  Beck,  I  held  him  down  and  made  him  send 
the  order." 

"But  he's  got  their  lands — he's  got  their  lands  an' 
he's  goin'  to  keep  'em  I" 

"Yes,  but  if  you'll  believe  me,  he's  going  to 
pay  for  them,  and  pay  well. "  Then,  answering  the 
shadow  of  scepticism  in  his  troubled  eyes:  "He  has 
promised  me  that  he  will,  and  he  keeps  the  faith  he 
pledges.  Tm  going  to  see  that  he  is  not  only  just 
but  generous  to  every  one  of  them.  And  I  am  going 
to  make  him  let  me  do  for  them  and  for  their  chil 
dren." 

The  two  of  them  turned  and  looked  at  the  sleep 
ing  subject  of  their  whispers  as  he  lay  before  them, 
the  embodiment  of  aggressiveness  and  power. 

There  was  a  long  period  of  silence  between  them, 
and  then  the  old  man  said: 

"You've  got  a  handful,  honey;  he's  a  big  proposi 
tion." 


396        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

But  the  girl  laid  her  slender  hand  on  the  powerful 
breast  of  the  sleeping  man,  and  looked  up  at  the 
gray-haired  doubter  with  the  fire  of  Welchel  Dale's 
undying  courage  in  her  eyes. 

"I'm  bigger  than  he  is!"  she  said. 

The  long-banished  smile  returned  slowly,  wrin 
kling  the  kindly  old  face  into  a  semblance  of  its 
wonted  cheerfulness  as  he  shook  his  head  gently  and 
replied: 

"Likewise  John  Marshall  ain't  goin'  to  have  no 
bed  o'  roses — no  siree!  He  ain't,  to  say,  a-goin' 
to  be  bored  to  death  for  lack  o'  bein'  poked  up!— 
Wa-al,  wa-al,  an'  did  I  ever  think  I'd  come  to  bank 
on  that  thar  temper!" 

Her  eyes  sought  the  face  of  the  sleeping  man  again, 
and  their  spirit  softened. 

"It  isn't  going  to  be  so  hard,  after  all,"  she  said. 

"No,  kitten,  he's  got  his  good  p'ints — but " 

"But  what,  Uncle  Beck?" 

"Oh,  no  thin';  but  I'm  glad  hit's  you  instead  o' 
me  that's  got  to  manage  him." 

"Why,  why" — indignantly — "you  said  yourself 
that  he  had  a  fine  spirit — that  he  had  'a  great  big 
man  in  him.": 

"Go  slow,  Ma'y  'Lizbeth,  go  slow!  That  was 
when  I  thought  the  man  was  dead.  Them  was  post 
mortem  feelin's,  so  to  speak,  an'  post-mortem  feelin's 
never  was  designed  to  fit  the  livin'  man.  You'll  have 
to  let  me  take  a  consider 'ble  tuck  in  'em,  honey!" 

"No,  Uncle  Beck — "  but  the  old  man  went  on: 

"Sixty-nine  year — sixty-nine  year,   an'   then   to 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        397 

make  the  fool  mistake  o'  praisin'  a  man  while  the 
breath  is  in  his  body!" 

There  was  a  long  silence  between  them  in  which 
both  their  faces  gradually  became  very  grave.  The 
girl's  gaze  had  sought  the  fire  now — she  was  strug 
gling  again  with  remembrance.  All  at  once  she 
turned  to  the  old  man: 

"Uncle  Beck,"  she  exclaimed  in  an  awed  whisper, 
"Uncle  Beck,  where's  Babe?" 

He  looked  sharply  at  her  white  face  for  a  moment, 
and  then  replied,  in  a  business-like,  cheery  tone: 

"Babe?  Why,  Babe's  all  right,  honey.  Nobody 
ain't  never  captured  Babe!  Yes,  yes,  honey,  Babe's 
all  right.  He  was  some  done  up  by  last  night — but 
— he's — restin'  this  mornin'." 

The  long  hours  of  delirium  that  had  mercifully  in 
terposed  between  the  vivid  terrors  of  the  night  and 
that  dim  awakening  to  the  pale  day  had  left  the  girl 
too  dazed  to  fathom  what  the  old  eyes  were  saying. 
She  accepted  what  she  heard  with  a  sigh  of  relief, 
and  turned  back  to  the  sleeping  man  beside  her. 

After  a  little,  she  spoke  again,  and  this  time  there 
was  a  certain  defiance  in  her  tone: 

"Uncle  Beck,"  she  said,  "I'm  going  to  marry  John 
Marshall." 

"I  could  a- told  you  that  months  ago,  Blossom." 

"It  may  be  wrong,"  she  ventured,  "I  know  you 
think  it  is  wrong —  Of  course  it  must  be  wrong' ' — 
for  the  old  man  was  looking  away  now — "but  life — 
'life  is  so  vastly  bigger  than  any  theory  of  it!'  You 
see  him  here — I  couldn't  leave  him  now — I " 


398        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

He  did  not  answer  her,  but  sat  with  his  face  still 
turned  away.  After  a  tense  moment  of  waiting  the 
girl  broke  down  completely. 

"I  need  you,  Uncle  Beck!" 

"I'm  here,  child." 

"But  I  shall  need  you  always." 

"Then  I  'spec  I'll  have  to  keep  in  reach." 

"I'm  afraid,  Uncle  Beck,  I'm  afraid!" 

"Honey!" 

"What  if — if  in  the  big  new  world  he  will  lead  me 
into — what  if  I  should  lose  the  way?  " 

"But  you  mustn't!" 

"But  if  his  paths  prove  alluring — if  I  wander  too 
far  from  the  hills —  Won't  you  call  me  back,  Uncle 
Beck,  won't  you  call  me  back?" 

John  Marshall  lay  asleep — asleep  with  the  re 
turning  joy  of  life  beating  through  his  veins — asleep 
with  the  fulness  of  triumph  and  the  peace  of  perfect 
bliss  written  in  every  line  of  his  strong  face — for 
Life  gives  abundantly  to  him  who  asks  neither  great 
nor  greatly  good  things  at  her  hands. 

But  the  woman  who  watched  beside  him  was  look 
ing  away  now — now  that  the  lids  were  closed  over 
his  warm  and  all-demanding,  all-absorbing,  waking 
gaze.  The  tide  of  life  was  running  low  for  her. 
Could  it  be  that  she  was  lonely?  Lonely  for  some 
thing  that  should  be  here  and  was  not? 
.  And  would  a  grave-eyed  memory  suffice?  But  he 
was  not  here.  He  would  never  come  again,  for  she 
had  failed  of  his  high  purpose,  had  compromised 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST         399 

with  sin!  Here,  beside  this  man,  this  poor  exponent 
of  power,  that  just  spirit  could  never  come;  and  here 
was  to  be  her  place  forevermore. 

Then,  as  if  in  answer,  her  hand  rested  on  the 
pocket  of  her  skirt,  and  she  felt  the  folds  of  a  paper 
within.  In  a  flash  she  remembered  that  Uncle  Beck 
had  put  it  there,  and  had  said  that  it  was  a  message 
from  her  guardian. 

She  took  the  envelope  out  with  strangely  mixed 
emotions  and  read,  inscribed  upon  it:  "For  Mary 
Elizabeth,  in  her  hour  of  failure." 

The  message  for  this  hour! 

She  tore  open  the  envelope,  but  at  the  first  recog 
nition  of  the  familiar  hand,  the  lines  were  sadly 
blurred.  It  took  her  a  minute  or  two  to  see  them 
plainly.  The  message  ran: 

DEAR  CHILD: 

I  am  appealing  to  you  in  this  your  hour  of  failure — I  who 
have  failed  in  what  I  hoped  to  do  for  you  here.  I  am  asking 
that  you  come  back  to  me  and  let  me  try  again. 

It  is  with  great  self-reproach  that  I  let  you  go  to-day,  for 
I  am  sending  you  out  into  the  world  to  get  the  development 
that  I  somehow  failed  to  help  you  to.  If  I  had  been  your 
father  I  suppose  that  something  of  wisdom  would  have  been 
mine  by  virtue  of  parenthood,  but  we  childless  men  are  apt 
to  make  mistakes  with  children. 

It  seems  cruel  to  you  to-day  that  I  am  sending  you  back 
to  work  among  your  own  people,  but  when  you  read  this  in 
your  hour  of  failure,  you  may  forgive. 

I  do  not  hope  great  achievements  from  you.  You  cannot 
work  out  the  salvation  of  any  people  for  them;  you  can, 
with  your  very  best  effort,  but  touch  their  lives  on  the  sur 
face  and  hope  for  development  from  within. 


400        THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST 

The  great  question  is:  How  is  it  to-day  with  the  woman 
in  your  soul? 

It  is  for  your  sake  that  I  condemn  you  to  this  task.  You 
need  something  to  sacrifice  for,  to  work  for,  something  to 
awaken  your  Christian  charity.  Ask  yourself  when  you  read 
this  if  you  are  a  deeper,  tenderer,  braver  woman  than  the 
one  I  sent  away. 

You  are  temperamentally  high-spirited,  Mary  Elizabeth, 
self-sufficient  and  self-absorbed,  and  once  or  twice  I  fear  I 
have  surprised  ingratitude  and  even  hardness  in  you.  But 
these  are,  after  all,  only  unripenesses  of  character.  It  may 
be  that  in  this  hour  they  have  dropped  away. 

If  so,  my  child,  let  us  not  call  this  a  time  of  failure,  but 
rather  a  very  blessed  hour  of  triumph,  for,  believe  me,  the 
only  thing  which  it  is  given  to  you  to  surely  direct  is  the  set 
of  your  own  soul. 

Just  what  you  have  attempted  in  the  task  to  which  I  con 
demned  you — just  how  far  you  have  failed — I  have  no  way 
of  knowing.  I  rest  secure,  however,  in  the  hope  that  you 
have  done  your  human  best. 

And  I  charge  you  not  to  despair.  In  a  lifetime  of  trying 
to  help,  I  have  rarely  had  a  single  plan  of  my  making  event 
uate  as  I  hoped;  but  I  have  never  once  failed  to  trust  that 
sometime,  somewhere,  good  would  come  of  even  every  mis 
take  that  was  made  in  the  love  of  God.  I  absolve  you  now 
from  further  effort  at  what  I  knew  would,  so  far  as  you 
yourself  could  see,  ultimately  fail ;  but  I  urge  on  you  this  last 
injunction :  Accept  compromise  or  defeat  without  bitterness, 
knowing  that  the  Hearer  of  Prayer  can  bring  ultimate  tri 
umph  out  of  our  saddest  failures. 

I  am  hoping  with  all  that  is  in  me  for  a  sweetening  and 
chastening  of  spirit  for  you;  and  fearing  most  of  all  a  nar 
rowing  to  bigoi'y  *hat  dof-!,  not  recognize  all  the  universe 
as  God's.  I  wouk;  uave  you  forbear  to  condemn. 

And  yet,  I  would  have  you  hold  fast  to  your  ideals,  even 
though  the  best  that  the  idealist  can  hope  for  now  is  to  speed, 
by  a  helping  hand  to  whosoever  stumbles,  the  coming  of  the 


THE  RIGHT  OF  THE  STRONGEST        401 

far-off  divine  event.  The  command  to  be  perfect  was  given 
to  the  race  as  the  Ultima  Thule  of  its  spiritual  evolution. 
It  is  your  part  to  make  a  step  forward.  It  is  your  part  to 
see  that  somewhere  in  your  soul  there  burns  always  an  altar 
fire. 
Come  to  me  if  you  need  me  in  this  hour. 

YOUR  GUARDIAN. 

And  there,  beside  the  man  who  slept  in  question 
able  triumph,  even  there  in  that  spot  that  was 
haunted  by  the  violence  of  sin,  Mary  Elizabeth 
turned  back  to  her  guardian  spirit  to  receive  at  last 
a  perfect  dedication — a  dedication,  not  only  to  the 
uplift  of  her  own  scattered  people,  but  to  the  best 
that  she  could  accomplish  for  the  man  beside  her, 
who  belonged,  like  them,  to  the  universe  of  God. 

And  when  she  gently  laid  back  the  dark  lock  that 
made  the  white  forehead  of  the  sleeping  man  look 
too  much  like  death,  there  was  no  touch  of  bitterness 
left  within  her  soul — only  a  secret  sense  of  incom 
pleteness. 

She  knew  that  she  loved  this  man  with  all  her 
heart — she  knew  that  she  would  continue  to  love 
him  with  all  her  heart,  along  whatever  way  they 
should  take  together — to  the  end.  But  she  knew, 
too,  that  within  her  inmost  soul  would  be  always  a 
Holy  of  Holies  into  which  he  could  not  come. 


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